


Reckless

by cryptid_jack



Series: Bloody Stars [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nomad V, Post secret ending, Romance, Spoilers, V gets better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptid_jack/pseuds/cryptid_jack
Summary: Something big is going down in Night City, Kerry knows that for a fact. Whatever it is, he's certain V is at the heart of it the moment he finds his input stumbling down the street shot to hell and back and in dire need of a ripperdoc.
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/Male V
Series: Bloody Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098047
Comments: 86
Kudos: 431





	1. Lucky Unlucky

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to my Kerry/V oneshot, 'Sleepless', so read that first! Decided to make this a little series, though this one will have multiple chapters.  
> If you enjoy this, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments, I love hearing that from you guys!

Something was going down in Night City; something big. Kerry could feel it. Spend enough time in the city and you learned to sense its many moods.

From auspicious dawns to dire dusks, Kerry had experienced them all, and now, as twilight settled over the sprawling mega-city, it felt ready to come apart at the seams. The energy in the streets was borderline manic and set the rockstar’s teeth on edge as he sat in the back seat of his car, caught up in traffic on his way back from almost twelve hours locked up in the MSM recording studio with the Us Cracks girls. They were good kids, but there was no way he was inviting them over to _his_ place to record, no matter how many times they dropped heavy handed hints that he should. No, these days he quite liked having his villa to himself, thanks very much.

Well, alright, so there was _one_ guy who had an open invitation to come and go as he pleased… The same guy that hadn’t so much as texted Kerry back since the last time he’d called almost twenty-four hours ago now. Kerry wasn’t _usually_ the type to obsess when someone didn’t message him back right away, but V’s call had felt _strange_ and the musician was still kicking himself for not prying more at the time.

They’d only known each other a few weeks, but damn if he wasn’t head over heels for the nomad punk that had swept into his life like a storm over the badlands; a raw force of nature in the shape of a man that shook the rockstar’s life to the foundations and woke him from the apathy that had swallowed him up without his even realizing it.

But instead of pushing, Kerry had let it lie. He was actually worried about scaring a guy off for a change, so he’d decided to err on the side of caution, just this once. V had a lot going on, he knew that (even if he didn’t understand all the wild, unbelievable details), but he’d _always_ answered his calls in the past, jumped to reply to his texts…

Until he hadn’t.

And now the city was pulsing with a frantic, frightened energy the likes of which he hadn’t felt since Johnny had-

Kerry’s heart lurched uncomfortably in his chest and he bent over in his seat, elbows on knees as he cradled his head in his hands and forced himself to take a deep breath. Stupid. He was being stupid; there was probably just some big gang shit going on up the road, or Militech was posturing in some pathetic attempt to intimidate Arasaka again. This wasn’t like last time; Johnny still lurking in his dome or not, V wouldn’t fuck around with nukes. He was smarter than that, better than that. He didn’t have all that rage and hate boiling under his skin the way Johnny had; the kind of pent up emotion that mere music couldn’t release, the kind that boiled over and made you lose your mind in the special way that ended with twelve-thousand people dead and a gaping crater in the heart of the city.

V was tough as nails but still managed to be kind, thoughtful even. The sort of guy that talked you _down_ from menacing three hapless young women with a pistol instead of egging you on, daring you to go that one step further just to put a point to the matter so they damn well wouldn’t fuck with you ever again.

Leg bouncing anxiously, Kerry straightened in his seat and let his head drop back to look out the open sun roof, forcing himself to take a breath of the not particularly fresh city air. It didn’t do much to calm him; if anything, it seemed to make things worse, like he’d inhaled the city’s nervous energy and made it his own.

Irritated, the man leaned forward and rapped his knuckles on the glass barrier between him and the driver of the car he’d hired for the day, and when the partition dropped, he demanded, “The hell’s going on?”

The driver, a younger man probably barely into his twenties, gave Kerry a nervous look in the rear-view that the rocker sensed had nothing to do with being in the presence of a celebrity. “I, uh- well, radio chatter’s talking about something going down at Araska tower…”

The man was sweating bullets as Kerry stared at him, or rather, _seemed_ to stare at him. Truth was, the musician had briefly caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd of people swarming along the sidewalk.

Kerry shoved himself back, then scrambled to get his feet under him and pushed up through the sunroof, heart pounding frantically in his chest as his eyes swept over the nervous, rushing crowd. A thousand and one conversations boiled up around him in a dull roar as people fled the city center by car, foot, and motorcycle, making frantic calls to loved ones as fear of another bombing leapt from one person to the next like a wildfire.

He’d _just_ seen him, surely the crowd hadn’t swallowed him up already?

Just as Kerry started to think that, worried as he was, he’d only imagined familiar lines in a stranger’s face, the musician spotted V pushing through the crowd, flinching as he lost against the tide of bodies and was shoved roughly up against a wall. As Kerry watched, the other man lingered there for a moment, swaying a little as he struggled to collect himself, then slid down and out of sight, leaving a smear of crimson on the stained stucco in his wake.

“V!” Kerry shouted, but if the merc could hear him over the crowd, he didn’t hear him respond, and before the musician knew was he was doing, he’d hauled himself up through the sunroof and leapt down onto the asphalt. He stumbled a pace when his boots hit the uneven ground, but Kerry quickly got his feet under him and rushed towards the last place he’d seen V, bloody rosette on the pale wall like a guiding star as he cut through the bumper-to-bumper traffic. He could hear his driver calling after him, but the man ignored him, fixated on his destination as he finally made it off the street and onto the sidewalk where he shoved his way through the crowd. “Move, dammit!” he shouted furiously as he shouldered his way relentlessly to his destination.

There, at the base of the wall, ignored by passers-by too focused on their own fear to notice (or care about) the man bleeding out at their feet, lay V, several shades too pale and gripping Johnny’s pistol like a lifeline as he struggled to catch his breath.

Kerry would recognize that damn gun anywhere; it’d been waved in his face more times than he cared to recollect, so he was intimately familiar with its every line, but he paid it little mind now, attention all for its apparent owner. “V? Hey, V; talk to me, man, come on,” he said desperately as he crouched next to the mercenary and angled his body to act as a barrier against the crowd as he ran one hand lightly along the other man’s jaw and patted his cheek lightly in hopes of stirring him.

Luckily, the musician wasn’t forced to try slapping him outright to bring V around, as his eyes fluttered open at his touch and he managed to suck in a deep lungful of air at last. “There you go,” Kerry said, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and managing a weak smile of relief as he slid one arm under V’s neck and hauled him carefully into a half-seated position. “Just keep on breathin’ kid, you’re gonna be alright, I’ve got you.”

V’s eyes rolled a little in their sockets as he struggled to focus them, and in a rough, halting voice, ground out, “Damn, didn’t think they sent angels down for people like me. Must be my lucky day.”

“Lucky nothin’,” Kerry snapped, heart aching fiercely at the exhausted, lopsided smile V fixed him with as he lay limply in the musician’s arms. “What happened? You been shot?” he demanded, shifting his hold on the merc a little to free up one hand to run down his back, searching for injury. V barely twitched at his touch, but the musician’s palm came away a shocking shade of crimson that nearly stopped his heart dead in his chest. A quick glance at the ground beneath them revealed a quickly growing pool of blood that made his own run cold. “Alright, definitely shot,” Kerry muttered as he helped V upright enough to rest against the wall he’d already slid down once and stripped off his leather vest, rapidly followed by his white tank top.

“ ’n stabbed,” the mercenary added, slurring a little as his chin dropped to his chest while the musician quickly put his vest back on, then balled up his shirt and slid it under V’s back to press against the worst of the wounds he felt there. “-shot again…” he rambled on, growing paler by the moment as Kerry pulled him forward so he could apply more pressure.

Hands shaking, the musician demanded, “Christ, V, the hell did you get yourself into?” as he glanced up and around them for some course of action, thoughts feeling like they were running in circles, nausea and fear making it hard to think straight. Even if he got V back to the car he’d rented, it was boxed in on all sides by traffic, so all he’d really be doing is let his input bleed out in the backseat instead of on the street. The crowd around them was already beginning to thin; what remained gave them a wide berth and the musician knew better than to think anyone would be willing to lend a helping hand. He could call an ambulance, carry V down the road to meet it…

“Fuckin’ ‘saka bastards and their fuckin’ swords,” V mumbled and Kerry’s head snapped back around to look at the man half propped against him. A worryingly wet sounding laugh escaped the mercenary as he forced his eyes open and managed to look up at the musician as he said, “But I beat ‘em, babe. Beat ‘em, found Mikoshi, and Alt, she-”

A bone rattling cough shook the man and he barely managed to cover it with a hand that came away bloody as he sighed and sagged back weakly, making Kerry clutch at him that bit tighter. “The hell you on about, kid?”

“Johnny. Johnny’s gone, Ker,” V said as he dropped his pistol and reached up to grip weakly at the front of the musician’s vest, struggling for the words he wanted before finally managing to say, “I’m sorry.”

“For getting your ass kicked by a bunch of Arasaka assholes? You damn well better be, you stupid gonk,” Kerry snapped, fear and worry turning his words sharp. He couldn’t lose him, not like this, bleeding out on a dirty sidewalk before they’d even had a chance to make a proper go of things…

V shook his head even as it sagged back, too tired to hold himself up. “No, ‘bout Johnny. I know you-”

“Whatever happened when you and I first met, Johnny’s been dead fifty years, V,” Kerry said, reaching up to wipe a few flecks of blood from the merc’s lips. “You’re who I’m worried about here. Need to get you to a ripperdoc stat. If you really were fuckin’ with Arasaka, hospital’s not an option.”

V was quiet for a moment, eyes closed, and for a brief, panicked moment, Kerry thought he’d lost him, but then the man spoke again. “Viktor.”

“Where?”

A weak, shuddering breath. “Watson.”

Kerry swore; they were nowhere near, but his own ripper wasn’t any closer and V was fading fast. The musician gave the fading man in his arms a sharp shake, and demanded, “You got anyone you can call for a ride? I’m boxed in, cab ain’t gonna make it in this traffic…”

A soft noise escaped V, brow furrowing as he struggled to think straight. It eased after a moment, though, as his eyes fluttered open again and Kerry saw them flicker orange as he made a call. “I’ll- I’ll call Junior. Shouldn’t be far; follows me around like a damn puppy…”

Kerry had no idea who the merc was talking about, but he managed to rein in his questions so V could save his energy and focus on staying alive long enough to make it to his ripper.

After a moment, V stirred in his arms and gestured down the road. “Gotta make it two blocks that way.”

Plan of action finally acquired, Kerry pulled himself together, tucked Johnny’s Malorian into his waistband, then nodded. “Alright, let’s get your ass to Watson, come on.”

It took some doing, but between them, the pair managed to get to their feet, V leaning heavily against Kerry, arm over the musician’s shoulder as they hobbled down the sidewalk, the latter swearing and shouting at people so they practically leapt out of their path as they went.

A weak bark of laughter escaped V when one badly startled man jumped sideways straight into a light pole at Kerry’s verbal onslaught and the musician cut him a sideways glance. The merc caught him looking and managed another lopsided smile as he rasped, “You’re fuckin’ great, I ever tell you that?”

“No, and it’s a cryin’ damn shame.”

V’s smile widened fractionally and he let his head drop to the side just enough to let his temple tap Kerry’s, all he could manage with most of his energy going to just putting one foot in front of the other. “Remind me later. Tell you all about it when I ain’t dyin’.”

The musician kept his eyes straight ahead, suddenly convinced that if he made the mistake of looking at his input now, he’d tear up or something equally stupid. V was going to be fine, _just fucking fine_ ; no point in crying over it, not when he had shit to do-

Like catch the kid when he suddenly found himself bearing V’s full weight as the merc’s legs went out from under him.

“Fuck! V, come on, we’re almost there,” Kerry said as he grappled with the other man, trying to get a better hold on him, hand slipping on all the blood soaking the back of his jacket. A car horn honked just a few yards up the street and the musician squinted, hope blooming in his chest once more. “That our ride?”

Rallying best he could, V pushed mostly upright and looked in the same direction then nodded, relief writ clear on his face. “Yeah, that’s Junior.”

Working up into an awkward shamble, the men managed to make it to the car and Kerry frowned, puzzled when he realized that not only was there no driver, but he recognized the paint job. “A Delamain?” he asked, baffled as V used his free hand to tug open the door of the back seat. “Thought they went dark a week ago? Tried to hire one today and they didn’t even answer my fucking call!”

“Long story,” V said as he sagged weakly into the back seat and dragged himself over to make room for Kerry, who quickly followed after and closed the door behind him.

“H-Hello, V. You seem to be bleeding a great deal, shall I take you to a ripperdoc?” asked a voice that sounded similar to the Delamain Kerry had become familiar with, but younger, and somehow more… human.

“Yeah, Victor Vector in Watson,” the mercenary instructed as he fumbled with his seatbelt for a moment, then gave up and just slumped over sideways onto Kerry.

The musician definitely had questions about ‘Junior’, but he put them aside for the moment as the car pulled away from the curb, pulled a tight u-turn and headed away from the traffic jam at high speed. Kerry wasn’t usually the sort to pay a lot of attention to things like ‘safety’, but with how fast the car was moving, and V’s already bad condition, he leaned over and managed to wrangle the other man’s seatbelt into the clip so he was at least partially secured, then did his own. “You stay awake,” he said when he caught V with his eye closed, full weight of the merc’s body pressed flush against his in the back seat. Kerry slipped one arm up and around V’s broad shoulders and tweaked the man’s ear sharply, making him hiss and flinch. “You stay with me,” the musician growled and the other man tilted his head so he could look at him. Tone gentling, Kerry added, “You haven’t even taken me on that stupid roller coaster yet; you said you would.”

It was stupid, but it made V smile, and that was worth it. “Right,” the mercenary murmured as he dropped his head back to Kerry’s shoulder. “Right, I still owe you a date on a death trap.”

“Damn right you do.”

The ride only took about ten minutes (’Junior’ was a hell of a driver, Kerry would give him that), but it _felt_ like it took an eternity. The musician tried to keep V talking, but it got harder to get a coherent response with every minute that ticked by until Kerry was left sitting in silence, leg bouncing anxiously again, arm wrapped tight around man at his side, still applying pressure to the gaping wound in his back with his completely soaked tank-top.

The car shrieked to a stop on a section of street Kerry was pretty certain wasn’t actually intended for cars, but he ignored the illegal parking in favor of looking out the window as Junior instructed him, “Um, the place you’re looking for is Misty’s Esoterica there. The young lady inside will be able to help you get down to V’s ripperdoc.”

Realizing he’d just have to take the AI’s word for it, he said, “Alright, thanks,” and opened the door after unbuckling both himself and V, then got out.

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Please, give V my um, best wishes for his recovery.”

“Sure,” Kerry replied, distracted by the prospect of getting V out of the car. The man’s breathing was shallow and he knew the kid wouldn’t be able to manage it on his own, so he reached in, pulled him over to the door, and with a grunt of effort, managed to get him up into his arms bridal style, then kicked the door shut behind him. “Fuck,” he groaned as V’s full weight hit him and he hurried towards the door of the shop. “The hell you been eatin’, kid? Lead?” he complained. For all V was a few inches shorter than himself, he weighed a _ton_ , no doubt thanks to a combination of his muscular build and whatever cyberware he had installed.

Luckily, the door was already open, so all Kerry had to do was stumble inside, startling the young woman behind the counter. “Where’s Viktor Vector? Need a ripperdoc,” the musician panted as he spotted a chair a little ways in and set V down in it as carefully as he could.

The woman, petite with dark make-up and short blonde hair, had looked ready to flee the premises at his sudden, frenzied arrival, but she froze when he spoke, then clapped her hands over her mouth as she recognized the man in his arms. “V!” she exclaimed, horrified as she hurried to his side. Rather than linger, though, she doubled back towards a door at the rear of the shop almost immediately and said, “I’ll get Vik!” before disappearing from sight.

Well, Kerry had to admire a person that could keep their head in a crisis; she’d done better than _he_ had.

The musician barely had time to reach down and apply pressure to the worst of the wounds he was only just now getting a look at on V’s abdomen when the door opened again revealing a tall, broad shouldered man sporting a pair of sunglasses that did nothing to mask his open concern.

“Shit, kid, what have you gotten into now,” the man, Viktor, Kerry assumed, muttered as he closed the distance in a few long strides and dropped into a crouch on the side opposite the musician while the young woman hovered worriedly behind him.

“Think he went and fucked around with Arasaka,” Kerry informed him grimly as he kept his hands pressed firmly in place, but jerked his chin towards V and said, “he’s got worse than this on his back. Had him talkin’ for awhile but he’s been quiet a few minutes now,” as he tried to keep the fear from his voice and focused on doing what he could.

Viktor swore quietly and Kerry just nodded in agreement as the other man got to his feet and moved to lift V out of the chair. “You get his legs,” the ripperdoc instructed and the musician jumped to comply while the young woman hurried and got the door. Together, the two men managed to get the merc out the back into the alley, down some stairs, and through a gate into a clean, well maintained clinic that Kerry would not have expected from the alley entrance.

He helped the doc muscle V up onto the surgery table that the young woman wheeled over rather than the chair that clearly saw more frequent use, and quickly found himself gently, but firmly, pushed out of the way while the pair set to work. It was obvious from their movements that they’d done this many times before; the ripperdoc barely had to say a word to his assistant before she handed him what he needed, starting with scissors to cut V out of his ruined shirt and jacket. After a few minutes, though, even she stepped back, hands clenched fitfully before her as Victor got down to work.

She and Kerry both lingered at the edge of the circle of light cast by the surgical lamps Viktor had brought to bear on V’s frighteningly still form for a long moment until the woman reached out laid a gentle hand on his arm, making the musician flinch. He’d been so focused on the horror scene playing out before him he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. They shared a look and Kerry saw his own fears reflected back at him in her blue eyes, prompting him to say, “I want to help.”

A small, sad smile pulled at her dark lips as her gaze went to Victor, and then back to him. “He’ll work faster alone,” she explained quietly, then reached out again, took Kerry’s hand in both of hers and lead him towards the door where she settled on the steps and motioned for him to join her. “He’ll call if he needs help,” she added. “We can wait here until then.”

Kerry hesitated, _wanting_ to do more than sit around with his thumbs up his ass, but knew there was nothing he could help with beyond serving as some extra muscle if the ripperdoc needed it.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, the musician dropped onto the stair next to the woman and, together, they settled in to wait.

  
  



	2. Saved by the Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://cryptid-jack.tumblr.com/) for sneak peeks and also fanart if you're interested!  
> If you enjoyed, drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!

Silence reigned in the clinic as Viktor worked, broken only by the occasional mutter from the ripperdoc as he talked himself through what he needed to do next to save the life of the man on the table before him.

Kerry sat, hands dangling between his knees, wondering if hours had passed, or if the minutes were simply dragging their heels in an attempt to drive him out of his own skull with the weight of his own anxiety. The musician forced himself to take a breath and bent his head to rest it in his hands, but stopped short when he realized that his palms were still covered in V’s blood. It was dry now; a dark, cracking film that made his skin itch the moment he registered it was there. A visceral shudder shook the man and his growing, though silent, distress drew the attention of the young woman beside him.

Realizing what the problem was, she pointed towards a door off to one end of the room and, in a quiet voice, said, “There’s a bathroom over there if you want to clean up.”

Kerry shot her a grateful look. “I- yeah. Thanks,” he said as he got to his feet and immediately went in that direction, closing the door behind him.

The bathroom was just as tidy as the rest of the place, if a little cluttered with miscellaneous cleaning supplies, apparently pulling double duty as a storage closet. The view the mirror over the sink provided gave Kerry a moment’s pause before he shook off his alarm and set to work washing V’s blood from his hands. He was a fucking mess; eye shadow smeared, face drawn, eyes wild… there was blood on his temple and chin too, though he had no idea how it had gotten there. He must have touched his face at some point without realizing it.

Fuck, even his vest had blood on it.

Hands shaking, Kerry focused on getting the red out from under his nails, stomach lurching when he realized it’d worked itself in around the nail bed too. It took a lot of hot water, but he felt a little better when it was gone, so he washed his face next. The musician gave up on trying to preserve his eye makeup after a minute, too exhausted by the day’s emotional trials to even put up the facade of having his shit together. He _felt_ like a wreck, might as well look like one too.

Kerry’s vest came clean with a few quick swipes of a damp paper towel, and he took a moment to zip it up in the continued absence of his shirt. Clean or not, the basement the clinic inhabited was fairly chill, and for once the rocker found himself wishing he was wearing something with sleeves.

Stripped of all his usual defenses though he was, Kerry felt more human by the time he was done cleaning up, and found breathing a little easier when he finally left the bathroom and rejoined the young woman on the stairs once more.

Seeming to sense the improvement in his mental state, she reached out and squeezed Kerry’s hand with her own, and maintained a gentle hold when he didn’t pull away. Stranger though she was, the gesture was a comforting one that the musician couldn’t bring himself to relinquish, so instead of shaking her off, he spread his fingers and twined them with hers while they sat in silence, waiting for news.

Kerry wasn’t generally the type to chatter when nervous, but the overwhelming sense of the another shoe about to drop was driving him crazy, so finally he broke and tried his hand at small talk with the woman whose hand he was currently clinging to like a lifeline. “What’s your name?” he asked quietly, not wanting to distract the ripperdoc as he watched him work, eyes fixated on his every move even as he addressed the stranger at his side.

“Misty,” she replied, and a brief, sidelong glance revealed that she seemed similarly focused. “Misty Olszewski.”

The musician nodded, then said, “Kerry.”

“I know,” she replied and the man looked at her again. This time she caught his gaze and a faint smile flickered over her heavily made-up features.

Okay, so he shouldn’t have been surprised she recognized him; he wasn’t even wearing his sunglasses anymore (where had he left those, anyways?), so he just offered her a smile that was half amused, half grateful that she hadn’t made a scene about it. “How do you know V?” he asked, relaxing by degrees as Viktor continued in his work, steady demeanor allowing the musician to think that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay after all.

Fingers still twined with his, Misty answered, “My Jackie hired him to smuggle some goods into Night City awhile back and they were inseparable after that, so we wound up friends too.” A sad smile curled her dark lips and she sighed a little before turning to look at Kerry more fully and asking, “How about you?”

Sensing there was more to the story, but not quite able to bring himself to pry, Kerry answered Misty’s question instead. “Well, he’s got the ghost of my old choom living in his head apparently,” he said with an incredulous huff. “Fuck me if _that_ don’t sound like pure misery.”

“It’s been tough on both of them, from what I understand,” she replied, surprising Kerry a little with her level answer.

“So you know about this… chip? Thing?” he asked with a vague wave of his free hand, brow furrowed as Misty nodded. “Confuses the hell out of me,” he admitted unhappily as he dropped his elbow to his knee and propped his chin up on his palm as he turned his gaze back towards the Viktor. “But however it happened, that was definitely Johnny fuckin’ Silverhand I talked to.”

“So are you friends with V, or Johnny?” Misty asked, and when Kerry looked at her again, he found her regarding him with a difficult to read look in her eyes.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was really asking; was he here for his on-again off-again choom from fifty years ago, or the man bleeding out on the table he’d just met a few weeks prior? The answer came with surprising ease.

“V,” Kerry said simply. “He-” the man paused, then tried again, “I-” but failed to find the words and huffed, finally relinquishing his hold on Misty’s hand so he could drop his face into his palms with a sound of frustration as the english language completely deserted him in his time of need.

Seeming to take pity on him, Misty said, “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

The musician lifted his head and took a deep breath, then looked her dead in the eye and said, “Yeah, he does.”

The woman smiled, and seemed ready to say something more when Viktor called, “I need a hand over here,” and both of them practically levitated to their feet in their rush to assist. “We need to turn him, carefully,” the rippderoc explained as the pair hovered near at hand, ready to follow orders.

Kerry’s eyes lingered on the bandages that decorated the front of V’s torso. From what he could gather, he’d been shot in the right shoulder and further down by his hip, with various cuts and bruises decorating the skin between the two extremes. His hands were a mess too, particularly across the knuckles, though if he had to guess, it looked like he’d caught a blade with the palm of one hand in a moment of desperation.

“Together now,” Viktor said, dragging the musician’s attention back to the task at hand and forcing the man to pull himself together so he could do his part.

Working in tandem, the two men got V rolled over onto his stomach without jostling his patched injuries while Misty managed the transfusion bag and kept them from getting tangled up in it as they worked. Before the ripperdoc shooed them out of his way again, Kerry got a look at the long, deep gash across V’s shoulders and spine, stomach twisting when he saw bone before he retreated back to the stairs.

He and Misty were both silent for a time, but, unable to take it, Kerry said, “Tell me about how he got the chip? Johnny told me once, but honestly, I was drunk and dead sure I’d finally gone off my fuckin’ rocker, so a lot of it didn’t stick.”

Misty laughed a little in spite of herself and Kerry’s mouth quirked in response. He hadn’t really been trying to be funny, but he couldn’t blame her; he’d have laughed too in her shoes. Still, she seemed ready to accommodate him, probably eager for a distraction herself, and dropping her chin to rest on her hands, began, “Well, it all started when my Jackie got this job offer from Dexter DeShawn…”

She was a helluva better story teller than Johnny, that much was certain.

“Jesus,” he muttered when she was done, and Misty nodded. A moment of silence, and then, “I’m sorry,” he said, “About Jackie.”

That sad smile returned, and this time Kerry understood the source of the sorrow behind it. Christ, no wonder she was so worried about V, they weren’t just friends; in a way, he was her last real tie to her freshly dead input.

“He was a good man,” she said quietly as she dropped her gaze to her hands where they rested in her lap, fingers knotted around one another. “I feel like I miss him more every day, instead of less,” she added, voice going tight as she bit down on her lower lip, expression pained. “And I… God, I won’t be able to stand it if I wind up having to say that about V, too,” the woman choked out then dabbed furtively at her eyes with the edge of her purple sleeve.

Kerry couldn’t bring himself to reassure her with words, he was too afraid of the same damn thing. Instead, he offered her his hand again, and after a moment, Misty accepted it, pressing it tightly between her smaller ones as they sat together in silence once more.

* * *

Exhaustion caught up to the musician eventually as the stress and adrenaline of the evening came home to roost and took its toll on his body. He was struggling not to fall asleep right there on the cold, cement stairs, despite his ass being numb and Misty leaning against him for support. Kerry came rocketing back to wakefulness when Viktor finally stepped away from the operating table and dropped onto a stool with an exhausted sigh, however, and scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could disentangle himself from the sleeping woman beside him.

“Well?” he asked, voice rough as he approached the table and lingered beside it hopefully while Viktor kicked off and set himself rolling towards the nearby sink where he washed his hands before returning.

“I’ve got him stable,” the ripperdoc said, less tense than he had been before, but not quite as relieved as Kerry would have liked.

“The chip?” Misty asked, brow furrowed with worry as she caught up and moved to the head of the table, fingers ghosting lightly over the back of V’s hair where he still lay prone on the table.

Viktor’s expression looked grim as he turned his attention to the computer module on a stand near at hand then got to his feet again so he could fetch a cable and connected it directly to the port on the back of the mercenary’s head. “We’re about to find out.”

A program Kerry couldn’t make heads or tails of booted up and took over the screen as the ripperdoc watched it, eyes scanning the information it was throwing up with intense scrutiny.

“Doc, I’m already pushing ninety, don’t let me die of old fucking age before you tell me if my dead choom completely scrambled my input’s brain,” Kerry ground out, nerves making him irritable as the seconds dragged on.

The ripperdoc didn’t so much as glance his direction, but from the way he shifted in place and quickly started swiping at menus, the musician suspected he’d figured _something_ out. Before he could snap, however, Misty prompted, in a much more gentle tone than Kerry would have, “Vik?”

Viktor stared at the screen a moment longer, felt vaguely behind him for his stool, which Kerry kicked into place for him, then dropped onto it, strength all going out of him at once. Taking off his sunglasses with one hand, the man rubbed his tired eyes with the other and, at long last, said, “I…I think he’s going to be okay.”

Kerry stared at him, hardly daring to believe his ears as Misty broke into a wide smile and rushed around the table to throw herself at the ripperdoc who laughed tearfully as he caught her and gave the woman a tight hug, relief in every line of his body.

“What happened?” Misty asked from where she kneeled on the floor in front of Viktor, still wrapped up in the man’s arms, tears in her eyes. “How did he manage it?”

“Not a damn clue,” Viktor admitted as he finally loosened his hold on Misty and sat back a little to wipe a few stray tears from his eyes and re-don his sunglasses. “I’ve got no clue how the kid did it, but the chip’s stable; it’s stopped trying to rewire his brain and-”

“And Johnny’s gone,” Kerry finished for him, sagging against the operating table as the immensity of it all hit him. The musician’s gaze went to V’s prone form, tracing over the now familiar line of his shoulders as an empty sort of feeling bloomed inside of him at the news that Johnny Silverhand, so briefly returned to the world of the living, had made his final bow for the second time.

Like a musician after one last encore.

Kerry closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath, then exhaled- not just air, but that feeling of emptiness too. When he opened his eyes again, he found Viktor and Misty watching him, and the former said, “I’m sorry about Johnny.”

A faint smile pulled at the corners of the musician’s mouth then jerked his chin in V’s direction. “He said the same thing when I found him,” Kerry mused as he pushed away from the table and went to its head where he could brush his fingers fondly over the mercenary’s hair, touch lingering in a way Misty’s had not. “But Johnny died a long time ago. Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry about now, not if his comin’ back for a few weeks saved this gonk in the long run.”

Christ but he and Johnny used to fight like cats and dogs- back when you still saw those on the street. Kerry never had been able to figure out if he loved or hated the one-time soldier… hell, it’d probably been a bit of both if he was being totally honest with himself. Still, in spite of it all, the musician had never doubted that they were chooms. Chooms that tore into one another and shouted themselves hoarse arguing from dusk til dawn, then patched each other up and went on to play the next show before starting it all up again a week later… but chooms all the same.

Well, he’d never claimed it was a _healthy_ relationship.

Then Johnny had died and Kerry had been left at sea, finally free of his rival but missing the man like a severed limb while cursing him for, yet again, having to take things that one step too far. The world had finally caught up with Johnny Silverhand in the end, while Kerry Eurodyne had carried on and climbed its loftiest peaks, but even that hadn’t been enough to assuage the regrets that plagued him. Regrets that had turned into a looming shadow the man felt he couldn’t escape no matter how high he climbed or how far he ran in life…

He’d been drowning when Johnny returned; new face, strange voice, but the same old smile and a familiar way with a guitar that echoed across decades like a lifeline Kerry seized in a heartbeat. Making peace with his choom and rival had been enough to finally grant the musician some peace at last, but it had been V that picked up the other end of the lifeline Johnny had thrown him and pulled Kerry free of the sea’s grasp at long last.

“How long until he wakes up and we know for sure?” Kerry asked, lifting his gaze to meet Viktor’s as Misty got back to her feet, wiping at her eyes with her sweater sleeve again before her tears of relief could do any more damage to her make up.

“Not til morning for sure,” the ripperdoc answered as he pushed to his feet and stretched. “I doped him up pretty good; rest is what his body needs most of all right now, after everything he’s put it through the last few weeks.”

Kerry nodded and raised a hand to cover a jaw popping yawn that didn’t go unnoticed by Misty. “You should go home, get some sleep,” she said solicitously. “Come back in the morning and check on V then.” When the musician hesitated, she offered him a reassuring smile and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on him.”

The musician glanced between Misty and the ripperdoc and knew the woman was right. He was on the verge of falling over, no good to anyone at all after the day he’d had. “Alright, fine,” he agreed, displeased but resigned. “I’ll flick you my deets, give me a call if anything comes up, no matter what time,” Kerry added and immediately followed through. Viktor seemed vaguely amused by this, but Kerry was too tired to call him on it. Instead, he asked, “Need help moving him before I go?”

“No, I can manage him now that he’s patched up. Better he stays like this a little longer before I move him,” Victor said with a dismissive wave and Kerry nodded.

Reluctant to leave, but suspecting he was on the verge of overstaying his welcome, Kerry brushed his hand over V’s hair one last time and murmured, “See you tomorrow kid; sleep tight,” then let Misty guide him out of the clinic and back up to the street.

To Kerry’s surprise, Delamain (or Junior, or whoever the hell the AI had decided he was this week) was still waiting outside, though had parked himself out of the way so he wasn’t blocking the entire street anymore. Luckily for him, no one had quite dared mess with a Delamain vehicle, mostly based off his existing reputation, though possibly also because of all the rumors about wild vehicular rampages that had been headlining the screamsheets last week.

“Looks like you have a ride already lined up,” Misty remarked with a smile.

“Could be,” Kerry agreed, arching one brow as he weighed his chances of making it back out of the car if he got back into it for a second time that day. Junior, while a bit odd, had seemed stable during their earlier ride, and dedicated to V to boot… “One way to find out, I guess,” he mused with a sigh before turning back towards Misty and offering her a one armed hug that she readily accepted. “Thanks for everything today,” he said earnestly and released her.

“I should be thanking _you_ ,” the young woman objected as she returned the gesture, then stepped back, smiling. “So, thank you,” she said quietly, “for bringing him back to us.”

Kerry nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, grinning a little as he cocked his head and said, “Yeah, well, just don’t think you ‘n the doc’ll get to keep him all to yourselves. I’ll be back come morning. With coffee; lots of fuckin’ coffee.”

The musician yawned widely again, craning his head back with the gesture until he wound up looking at the overcast sky above them, clouds stained neon by the light of the city below. Kerry took a breath and Misty chuckled as he righted himself, then shooed the rockerboy towards the waiting car. “Goodnight, Kerry.”

“Night,” he said one last time, then turned and made his way to the Delamain, which opened its back driver-side door when he approached.

“Hello, Mr. Eurodyne. I don’t suppose you would like a ride home?”

Kerry leaned down to look into the backseat and found that it was sparkling clean once more, like V hadn’t nearly bled out in there just a few hours before. He also found his sunglasses, which he picked up and tucked into the pocket of his vest. “Dunno,” he said. “What’s it gonna cost me?”

“I wasn’t aware that money was, um, of any object to someone like you?”

“It ain’t. I was thinking more about blood prices, what with all the rampaging and havoc I heard about last week. Not that I object to the occasional havoc, but I’m fuckin’ bushed and I kinda promised my input I’d lay off on the rampages.”

The AI made a sound of comprehension. “I see where the source of your, well, confusion lies. Delamain was my, uh, father, I suppose you’d say. Last week’s chaos was thanks to a rather, hmm, unfortunate series of malfunctions in his personality program that V helped him fix.”

Kerry was silent for a moment as his exhausted brain attempted to process all of this and failed. “Uh-huh. So that leaves us where?”

“It leaves me, offering you a, um, a ride home in exchange for information about V’s wellbeing. I think.”

The musician considered this, then finally gave in with a shrug and said, “Yeah, alright, good enough for me,” as he slid into the back seat and closed the door behind him.

“Brilliant,” Junior said, sounding pleased as he pulled away from the curb and navigated back onto the main street. “Judging by your general, uh, demeanor, I assume V survived?”

The conversation was one of the more mundane ones Kerry had experienced in awhile, despite the strangeness of the company. There was little to be said, though obviously what little news there was, was good, so Junior was satisfied, and Kerry was pleased to find that the AI was just as smooth a driver as his father had been. So much so that he nodded off well before he got home, and only woke when they had finally come to a stop in front of his villa.

“I believe Misty said you should return to the clinic at nine; would an eight twenty-five pick up time, um, suit you?”

Kerry blinked and yawned, half out of the car already as he tried to mull this over. His own car was way too damn flashy to be driving down to Watson and leaving out in the open for hours unattended, and Junior was definitely more convenient than hiring a human driver… “Yeah, alright, suits me fine. See you then, Junior.”

“Have a pleasant evening, K-Kerry,” the AI chirped, seeming pleased by the arrangement.

Kerry got out and waved, then ambled back into his house where he made a bee-line up the stairs to his bedroom, dropped face first into his pillow, and fell asleep before he could get his boots off.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me [**on tumblr**](https://cryptid-jack.tumblr.com/) for sneak peeks and also fanart if you're interested!  
> If you enjoyed, drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!


	3. Jamaican Me Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy this wound up way longer than intended 8'D Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!

Kerry came awake with a start so violent he tumbled off the edge of his bed and hit the floor with a grunt. Sweat-soaked and shaking, the musician groped blindly in the dark around him for some clue as to where he was, then nearly bashed his head on what he realized was his night stand once the automatic light at his bedside finally clicked on. Gasping like he’d run a mile, Kerry pushed himself upright and didn’t recognize where he was for a moment- until reality slowly but surely began to reassert itself, replacing whatever nightmare-scape he’d been caught in with the familiar lines of his bedroom. Acting on a lingering reflex, Kerry looked at his hands, half expecting them to be covered in blood, but found them clean, if unsteady, when he examined them under the gentle golden glow of the lamp behind him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, relief at some narrowly avoided tragedy he could no longer recall radiating powerfully from the single, emphatic syllable. Realizing he was still fully dressed, Kerry forced his way to unsteady feet and made his way down to the bathroom, desperate for a shower despite it being the middle of the night.

Feeling like someone had stuffed his head full of cotton and then run it through the tumble dryer, the musician just stood and let the hot water rush over him for awhile before remembering to use soap and actually wash. He felt better when he was done, despite the exhaustion dragging at his limbs, and wandered back up to bed, where he made an effort to actually get under the blankets this time and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep after setting himself an alarm.

When it woke him a few hours later, it was like someone flipped the ‘on’ switch in his brain and his thoughts were off to the races. Lingering in bed held no temptation for a change; a shocking development for a man who rarely left its comfort before noon if he could help it. He had places to be, though, and inputs to see, the thought of which sent a frantic fizzle of nervousness straight down the musician’s spine and into his stomach. Viktor had said V managed to stabilize the chip somehow; no doubt that’s what he’d been up to at Araska before Kerry had found him bleeding out on the street, but he was still worried. He might be wrong. Could be the kid had managed to fry his brain dragging Johnny out by the roots after all and the V he’d grown so close to was-

Kerry gave himself a sharp mental shake and rifled through his closet to find something suitably low-key that wouldn’t attract any attention down in Watson, or anywhere else he might wind up going that day. Last thing he needed to do was lead the fucking paparazzi to V’s doorstep and expose him not only to their scrutiny, but Arasaka’s as well. Now that he thought about it, though, Kerry wondered that the corpos hadn’t found the kid already, and that nervous feeling in his gut got worse.

He’d been an idiot, he shouldn’t have ever left the kid alone when every samurai Arasaka had was probably out on the street looking for him…

Suddenly on the verge of a panic attack, Kerry dragged on the first t-shirt that came to hand and called Misty, half expecting the connection to fail.

“Hey, Kerry,” Misty answered blithely, and the raw relief Kerry experienced at the sound of her voice forced him to reach for the wall to keep himself upright, world spinning sluggishly around him.

“Hey, Misty,” he replied, trying to sound as normal as possible. “Everything preem there on your end? No trouble?”

The young woman made a thoughtful little sound. “Everything’s fine over here; V’s still asleep, but he’s already looking better than he did yesterday,” she said, sounding pleased by this fact. “Everything alright with you?” Misty asked, apparently more concerned by him than the fugitive in her basement.

Forcing himself to breathe, Kerry nodded. “Yeah, fine. Just fine.”

“You’re sure?” she pressed gently, and the musician relented.

“Think I just got in my own head about… what our gonk was up to yesterday.”

“Ah,” Misty said, understanding immediately. “You were worried about who might be looking for him?” There was a smile in her voice when she continued, “Haven’t watched the news yet today, have you?”

Kerry paused, frowning. “Noooo,” he said, dragging out the vowel as he turned and squinted out the window thoughtfully. “Why?”

“Give it a look later,” Misty said enigmatically, making the rockerboy arch one brow. “You’ll feel better, I think.”

“Vague, but alright,” Kerry replied and the woman chuckled. “You drink coffee?” he asked as he turned back to his closet and fished out a nondescript hoodie from its depths.

“I’m trying to cut back. Vik drinks it like aqua vita, though. Black. I’m sure he’d appreciate some if you’re offering.”

“Man after my own heart. See you in a few, then.”

“See you.”

Call ended, Kerry went down to the bathroom to finish getting ready, but decided to forgo his usual makeup once he’d gotten his hair in order for the sake of keeping a low profile. He doubled back a few minutes later after catching an unflattering glimpse of his reflection in a window and decided to do a little after all, though. It was stupid; V was probably on a shit ton of preem pain meds, chances were he’d barely be able to see straight after everything he went through yesterday, let alone notice his input’s eye game… Kerry still felt the need to look good for him, anyways; probably a sign of just how deep in it he was with the merc.

Sighing a little at his own absurdity, the musician almost poked himself in the eye with his eyeliner when his ride called. “Hey,” he answered, forcing himself not to squint at his reflection, mouth hanging open as he worked.

“Um, good morning, Kerry!” Junior answered brightly. “I am waiting outside when you are ready.”

“Be right out,” the musician answered as he put on the finishing touches, then grabbed his baseball cap, sunglasses, and the plainest of his leather jackets, and headed out the door. Before it had time to swing shut behind him, Kerry doubled back and grabbed up the closest guitar already in a case and left again. Never knew when the muse would strike, and if nothing else, having it along would give him something to keep his hands busy while he waited for V to come around.

It was raining outside, which suited Kerry just fine as he slid into the back seat; fewer people around to see his comings and goings. Even the paparazzi that liked to camp outside his gate on slow news days were nowhere to be seen. Bigger things going on that day than Kerry Eurodyne leaving in the last operating Delamain in Night City, apparently.

“Gotta make a call,” the musician said as he settled in. “Can you swing by Caliente on the way? Dyin’ for some coffee and I promised I’d bring some for the doc.”

“Absolutely,” Junior replied amenably as they pulled out of the drive and started towards the city.

Kerry grunted his thanks then dropped his head back and called the Us Cracks girl’s apartment line, wondering if they’d even be up yet. _He_ sure as hell wouldn’t have been on a normal day. They’d made plans yesterday to hit the studio again today (though not until the afternoon) but Kerry knew better than to think he’d be able to focus on anything outside Viktor’s clinic today.

The phone rang a few times, and then, with his phone synced to his kiroshis, Kerry saw Blue Moon drop into frame in the upper left hand corner of his vision. Caught mid-yawn, it was a moment before the girl could answer, her voice rough with sleep. “Kerry-san? Why are you calling so _early_?” she complained, pouting a little as she sniffed and pushed her sleep-mussed hair back out of her face.

“Sorry, I know; trust me, I ain’t usually up at this hour either,” he said as Red Menace wandered into frame behind her, bending down to see who it was her band-mate was talking too. “Hey, Red,” he greeted reflexively and was met with a little wave before she wandered away again.

“So, what’s going on, Kerry-san? Did our session yesterday keep you up allll night?” Blue asked in her exaggerated accent, picking up her persona out of habit as she came more awake.

He snorted, amused as ever by their over the top flirting, though thinking nothing in particular of it. “Eh, not exactly,” he said, wavering for a moment as he debated on what to tell them before deciding on the closest thing he could to the truth that wouldn’t wind them up in hot water with Arasaka. “Listen, I’m gonna have to cancel today. Friend of mine was in an accident yesterday, got himself busted up pretty bad. I’m headin’ over to his place to make sure he’s still in one piece.”

Blue’s playful mood dropped away immediately, as did her accent. “Oh, Kerry-san, I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said, brow furrowing with concern as Red ducked back into frame.

“Hey, take your time; we can reschedule everything for next week,” the second girl added considerately.

A small sigh of relief escaped the musician at their willingness to accommodate him. He’d have done whatever he wanted regardless, but it was nice not to have to burn any bridges in the process for a change. “Thanks, ladies. You’re a couple a’ real himes, you know that?”

“ _Kerry-san_ ,” Red said with a giggle and a playful flap of her hand.

Blue, however, looked thoughtful and frowned as she seemed to put things together with uncanny quickness for someone that just woke up. “It’s not your friend V, is it?” she asked, worried by the prospect.

Surprised by her guess, he froze up for a moment, then slowly admitted, “Yeah, it is.”

Both girls made little sounds of horror, then glanced off camera before Purple leaned unexpectedly into frame. “He gonna be alright?” she asked, brow furrowed.

“Outlook’s good, according to his doc,” Kerry said, still baffled by the outpouring of concern. As far as he knew, they’d only met V briefly the two times, but their worry didn’t seem like an act they were putting on for his sake.

“That’s good,” Blue said, sounding genuinely relieved at the news, one hand pressed over her heart. “Please, tell him we all hope he gets better soon.”

Red nodded vigorously. “We owe him after the way he helped Blue out,” she said with a smile as she reached over and shook her friend fondly by the shoulders and the girl flushed.

Suddenly, Kerry remembered that Blue Moon _had_ , in fact, asked him for V’s number not long after they’d reconciled their differences with the merc’s help. “You hire him for a job, Blue?” he asked, curious.

The girl flushed deeper yet and nodded. “I uh… I had a bit of a creepy stalker situation that he helped me with.”

“He was _so_ patient and _so_ sweet! Ah, V-san, so kakkoii!” Red practically purred as she did a delighted shimmy in her pjs. “Followed little Aoi-chan all around that market while she tried to lure out her stalker and then- **_BIKKURI_ **! He pounced! Took out stalker girl and hit her with her own gun!” she exclaimed and pantomimed pistol whipping Purple, who spun dramatically as if struck and dropped out of frame.

She popped up again a second later and proclaimed, “So he’s our hero!”

“Pretty sure he like, _way_ undercharged me, too,” Blue added a little sheepishly.

All of this was news to Kerry, who pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between amused and baffled by the mental image of Night City’s top merc taking the time out of his day, _while he was dying_ , to run security for a girl that could have just hired some extra huscle to solve her problem, then undercharging her for it.

Not that he was any better. He’d hired the guy to boost a van full of instruments and blow it up with a fucking grenade just because he was feeling pissy and territorial towards three perfectly nice girls over a big misunderstanding. V had even helped them sort out the misunderstanding after and gotten them to bond over the experience of getting fucked over by their own labels.

“Ohhh for fucks sake, I think I’m dating a fucking boyscout,” Kerry groaned aloud without thinking. A rebellious, sexy, badass boyscout that could kick his ass faster than he could say ‘merit badge’… but a boyscout all the same.

All three girls cried out at the news, making the man start at the sudden explosion of noise.

Red squealed, hand in front of her mouth in mock scandal at the revelation. “Kerry-san and V-san _dating_?!”

“Uwaa! Sexy sexy oh my _gooood_!” Purple giggled, seeming thrilled at the news while Blue laughed, big eyes wide with delight.

“Uso! No way!” she crowed, bouncing in her seat. “I ship it, oh my god! I thought it when I saw you together at the party; you were so kawaii, so *flirty with him, Kerry-san!”

Shit, him and his big mouth.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” he said loudly over the outpouring of excitement. “You didn’t hear that from me, got it? V’s in… he’s in some shit right now, alright? So-”

Blue leaned forward eagerly and said, “Don’t worry, Kerry-san, your secret is safe with us, promise!” The girl glanced back at her bandmates, who both nodded vigorously.

Purple pretended to zip her mouth and throw away the key while Red said, “We’ve got your back, Kerry-san; go give your input a little tender loving care,” with a wink and a smile. “We’ll take care of things on our end, you just let us know when you’re free to record again.”

Relaxing a little, Kerry managed a half-smile and said, “Thanks, ladies. I’ll be in touch,” then hung up after one final round of goodbyes from the girls and called his manager.

Well, his temporary manager; Kerry was still refusing to see Kovachek, no matter how hard the guy tried to worm his way back into his good graces. The temp was a total doormat, so he didn’t put up much resistance when the musician informed him he’d be delaying recording with Us Cracks for a week, particularly when he explained he’d already discussed the matter with them personally.

He hung up before the other man had a chance to ask him why he was taking a week off, then settled back into the plush seat of the car with a heavy sigh, feeling a little better now that some of the more immediately pressing issues were off his plate. “You mind if I smoke?” Kerry asked Junior, already halfway through tapping a cigarette out of the carton.

“I have a fully automated filtration system installed so, please, um, be my guest,” the AI replied and the corners of Kerry’s mouth quirked up as he thanked him and finished taking out the cigarette, then lit it with a deft flick of the zippo he kept in pocket.

The musician took a long drag, then exhaled slowly as he turned his attention to the world outside the vehicle. It was still raining, heavier than ever now, drenching the world in dull grays and sullen blues as they crossed the bridge into the city proper, Kerry’s thoughts still lingering on the Us Cracks girls.

Under all the posturing, flirting, and giggling, they really were genuinely nice kids, and not for the first time, the musician was deeply grateful that V had managed to talk him down from doing something stupid he certainly would have regretted later when he’d calmed down. Or worse, wound up in a place where he _didn’t_ regret his actions and was still walking around like a fool feeling justified despite getting played by that asshat, Kovachek.

He’d always had a bit of a temper on him, and it’d gotten him into trouble more than a few times. V had snapped him out of it with surprising ease, though Kerry still wasn’t quite sure how. After all, he knew better than anyone just how much of a stupid gonk he could be when he got his hackles up over something.

Kerry took another drag of his cigarette and frowned, sinking down into his slightly too-big leather jacket as he did. He needed to be better, he knew that; he was way too damn old to be relying on other people to keep his temper in check. He should try to be more like V…

The musician wrinkled his nose at the thought as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke. No, that wasn’t right either. V, as yesterday had proved, was his own special brand of hot-blooded, reckless dumbass that apparently had a habit of sacrificing his own well being in a way that hurt the people around him.

Kerry hurt others to protect himself, and V hurt himself to protect others… maybe what they really needed was to learn from one another.

Seeing V so badly injured, bleeding out on the side of the road, had terrified the musician and he’d only known the mercenary a few weeks; he couldn’t imagine what Viktor and Misty had felt when he’d stumbled into the shop with their half-dead friend in his arms. Selfless as it seemed on the surface for V to have charged into Arasaka on a solo mission to find his cure without risking his friends lives, Kerry had no doubt they, and everyone else that gave half a damn about the kid, wished he’d asked for their help instead.

He knew _he_ sure as hell did. Kerry had no idea what he might have done, but he’d have tried _something_ , goddammit.

Junior pulled up at Caliente and Kerry wound up ordering a whole carafe of their best organic Jamaican and a box of donuts to go before they were on their way again. When they arrived, AI said, “I’ll just… I’ll go park up the road a little ways to wait. Please give me a call when you’re ready to go.”

“Might be awhile, you sure you wanna wait around?” Kerry asked as he gathered up his stuff.

“Oh, I don’t really, um, don’t really have anywhere else to be, so it’s fine. P-Please give V my very warmest wishes for his full recovery when you’re able to speak to him.”

“’Course,” Kerry reassured him, then climbed out and gave the roof of the car a pat before closing the door. Weird as it sounded, he was really starting to like the awkward little AI.

The musician headed inside and was met with the sight of Misty at the counter in deep consideration of a spread of colorful cards laid out before her. She looked up and smiled as soon as she heard him enter, though, and said, “Morning, Kerry.”

“Hey, Mist,” he replied. He didn’t technically know the young woman all that well, but after what they’d been through together yesterday, that hardly seemed to matter. They’d bonded. “All good?” Kerry asked as he offered her a donut.

The woman accepted, then nodded. “Yep, he’s still out, last I heard. Probably won’t be much longer though,” she observed as she glanced at the clock on the monitor to her right, then turned her attention back to the cards and took a bite of pastry.

“Whatcha got goin’ on here?” Kerry asked, curious in spite of his growing need to dash out the back to the alley just to see the truth for himself.

Misty glanced up at him again and said, “Oh, just thought I’d do a tarot reading for the day. Come back up later and I can do one for you, if you want,” she offered.

Head cocked, Kerry considered the cards, then said, “Sure, why not. Need all the help I can get,” and winked at her, earning himself a chuckle as he went out the back of the shop and into the alley.

The musician trotted quickly down the stairs to the clinic, disposable carafe in one hand, donuts in the other, and guitar case dangling by its strap from one shoulder, then nearly bowled right into someone else coming up the steps. They weren’t anyone he recognized; another patient of Vik’s probably, but Kerry quickly ducked his head so his face was hidden by the brim of his hat. Luckily, whatever they’d come to see the doc for, they were distracted enough that they didn’t pay him any more attention than was required to swear at him and tell him to watch his step.

Viktor glanced up when the gate was unceremoniously kicked open, mouth twisting a little in amusement as he watched the musician try to navigate it using only his foot and shoulder, only to wind up nearly tripping down the last two steps.

“ _Son of a cock sucking mother_ -” Kerry muttered viciously under his breath as he turned and kicked the thing shut again, making the ripper laugh outright. The musician turned and scowled at him, “Yeah, keep it up, chuckle-fuck and I’ll just keep the coffee and donuts for myself.”

Viktor arched a brow, but seemed intrigued all the same so he raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “No need to be hasty,” he said, then got to his feet and cleared a space on one of the work tables in corner so Kerry could put down his armful.

“Where’s V?” he asked immediately as he looked around but didn’t immediately spot him. He hadn’t exactly gotten the tour yesterday, and from what he could tell the clinic was fairly large, plenty of space to hide an invalid that also happened to be the most wanted man in Night City.

“Tucked out of sight,” Viktor answered vaguely as he grabbed two clean mugs, pushed one into Kerry’s hands, then turned back towards the carafe and activated the little spigot built into it. “He slept the night through, which is good; minimal bleeding when I checked his bandages,” he explained, voice soothing and calm in a way Kerry had no doubt he used on all his high strung patients (and their higher strung loved ones). It was enough to stop the musician’s restless glancing about, though, and draw his attention back to the ripperdoc as he straightened and took a sip of his coffee. Viktor had looked like he was about to say more, but his eyebrows shot up over the rims of his sunglasses and he looked down at his mug instead. “Damn, is this ‘ganic?”

“Well, I ain’t bringin’ the cheap shit for the guy with my input under his knife,” Kerry said, half-joking as he got himself some coffee as well, then looked at Viktor again and, in a more serious tone, said, “If he’s got bills that need paying-”

“I don’t charge family for emergency work,” Viktor said sternly before the musician could even finish, and Kerry suspected that a line was being drawn, though he wasn’t quite sure where.

V was family, as he’d said, so where did that leave Kerry in the picture, precisely? Unwanted interloper intruding on family affairs, or potential recruit to the ‘keep-V-from-getting-himself-zeroed’ club? Somewhere else entirely, maybe. The musician had to admit, Viktor was a hard read; he’d have to tread carefully with the man if he didn’t want to get himself thrown out on his ass. One look at the guy and, honestly, Kerry didn’t doubt he could manage it. He kept himself in good shape, but he’d been around the block enough times to recognize a fighter when he saw one.

The men eyed one another over their mugs, both sizing the other up, until, finally, something in the ripperdoc’s expression relaxed fractionally and he lifted his mug to say, “Coffee’s good; I appreciate it.” Then, in a more curious tone, asked, “What is it, Jamaican?”

Kerry flashed him a grin. “I appreciate a doc with taste,” he said and lifted his mug in return, then took another sip of his drink. “Don’t ask me where I got it, I’ll have to kill you.”

“Pretty sure it said Caliente on the box.”

“Yeah, well… they don’t serve it to just anyone,” Kerry huffed as he almost leaned against the table, then remembered his guitar was still on his back and straightened again.

Viktor hummed skeptically. “Rock stars only?”

“ _Regulars_ only,” the musician corrected him firmly. He’d only been eating there since the twenties, damn right they better give him the good shit. Tiring of the careful dance they seemed to be locked in, feeling one another out, Kerry cut to the chase and asked, “How’s V, really? The bleeding out, the broken bones… that’s surface level shit.” He paused for a moment, wishing again that he’d been in a better state of mind when Johnny had first showed up in his house so he could have actually remembered everything the dead gonk had spilled his guts about. Thank god he’d had Misty fill in the blanks some last night, but even then… he felt like he was missing things. “Johnny- having that chip in his head… it was killing him even before a bunch of asshole samurai went and cut him a few new holes, wasn’t it?”

The ripperdoc’s expression sobered again and his gaze drifted from Kerry, back deeper into the clinic, past his operating chair where the musician assumed he must have stashed the merc in question. Finally seeming to come to a decision, he nodded. “Yeah, the nanites in the chip were completely rewiring his brain, his genetic code… everything- to the point that his own body was rejecting his consciousness.” He looked back at Kerry then added, “and that was _after_ taking a bullet to the brain.”

“Jesus,” Kerry muttered, reflexively tightening his grip on his mug to keep his hand from shaking. He’d heard it before, obviously, Misty hadn’t left that part out, but somehow it sounded so much worse, so much more final, coming out of Viktor’s mouth. Cuz he was a ripper, maybe. “And now?” he asked, throat going tight in spite of the cyberware in his neck. “Last night, you said it’d stabilized. So, he’s alright?”

“I- we won’t know for sure until he wakes up, but it looks promising.”

“Promising?” Kerry repeated, smile bitter.

“’Promising’ is better than what he had three weeks ago when all we had was ‘terminal’,” Viktor countered sharply and the musician immediately relented.

Dragging a hand down his face, Kerry set his unfinished coffee aside and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry. I ain’t tryin’ to be a shit, I just-” He took a breath and pressed his fingers into his eyes as they threatened to well up. “Fuck. I just met him, I don’t- I can’t-” The musician shut his mouth and shook his head before he embarrassed himself. “God, this is so fucking stupid,” he complained, folding in on himself a little as he struggled to maintain control under the lash of his own emotions. “I just met this gonk a few weeks ago and-” the man gestured irritably as a sound of frustration escaped him.

Viktor laughed and Kerry cut him a sharp look that didn’t phase the ripper in the slightest. “You’ve got it _bad_ ,” the other man mused.

Kerry might have snapped again if Vik’s teasing hadn’t been accompanied by a new air about the man; not quite confrontational, but not _not_ confrontational, either. Finding himself on uncertain ground, the musician just heaved a sigh and dropped his head, then straightened and faced the other man head on. “Yeah, I do. That gonna be a problem?”

Viktor arched a brow and took a sip of his coffee, then said, “Not so long as you’re serious about him and this isn’t some… _distraction_ where you go and spend time with the poors to add a little spice to your gilded, hyper-sterilized existence.”

Temper sparking again, Kerry glared at the man. “Do you know who the fuck I am?” he snapped, mouth twisting in disgust at what the ripperdoc was implying.

“One of the wealthiest musicians on the planet?” Viktor drawled, unphased.

The musician narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t always. You think I haven’t seen Night City’s gutters? I was fucking _born_ there before you were even an itch in your daddy’s balls.”

The ripperdoc’s cool temper was only serving make Kerry’s own worse, and he added more fuel to the fire yet when he casually observed, “Been a looong time, though, hasn’t it?”

Feeling like the man had slapped him, the musician’s shoulders went rigid. “You really think that’s why I’m here? Reliving my fucking punk glory days or some shit?”

“I don’t know _what_ this is,” Viktor replied then set aside his mug and grasped the edge of the counter behind him as he leaned back against it. “Could be a late mid-life crisis, might be some sort of hang-up about your dead choom…” he hesitated a moment and drummed his fingers against the counter’s edge. “Or, maybe it’s real.”

Barely restraining the urge to punch the ripperdoc right in his smart mouth, Kerry spat, “You _just_ got done saying I ‘had it bad’, asshole. So which is it? I got it bad or ‘m I just using V for a quick fuck and some adrenaline to get my decrepit heart racing again?”

“Never said what it was you had.”

“Oh **_fuck_ ** _you_!”

“You two cut it out!” Misty snapped as she dragged open the gate to the clinic and stormed towards the pair of them with an impressive scowl on her face. “Is this what you want to V to wake up to, seriously? The two of you at each other’s throats?”

“I was just-” Viktor began, leaning back and away from Misty as she glared at him, on the verge of climbing up onto the counter to get away from her.

“Oh, I know what you were doing Vik. _Pushing buttons_ , being high-handed and over-protective when V is a big boy and can figure out his own love life without you sticking your nose in.” She gestured towards Kerry and said, “Kerry _obviously_ cares about V, anyone with eyes could see that last night, so try taking off your gonk sunglasses and having a proper look before you go and make anymore of an ass of yourself.”

Taken off guard by his unexpected knight in shining armor, the musician almost started to feel a little smug at the lashing the ripperdoc was getting. The feeling was short lived as he found himself on the receiving end when Misty unexpectedly spun back towards him. “And you! Overly defensive and too quick to take offense!” she accused and jabbed him in the center of his chest with a finger, only for the digit to ben back painfully when she hit the gold plating of his cyberware. Misty winced then snatched her hand back and shook it with a frown, and Kerry might have found it very funny if she hadn’t just hit the nail on the head. In a gentler, though still disapproving tone, she continued, “V’s family, to both of us, and he’s been through a lot lately. Vik just doesn’t want him getting any more hurt than he already is.”

A tense silence settled over the clinic and the two men eyed one another uncomfortably for a long minute before Kerry finally broke first, knowing that just because Vik was wrong, didn’t mean he wasn’t too. After all, hadn’t he _just_ been thinking about how he needed to be better about checking his own temper in the car on the way over? Fucking preem job he was doing of it…

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough as he ran his hand through his pale hair and let it drop again with a huff. “I know I’m new to this party, and you people don’t know me from fuckin’ Adam, not _really-_ ” Kerry gestured vaguely in dismissal of his own fame, then met Vik’s gaze and continued, “But I _am_ here because I care about V.”

Surprise flickered briefly across the ripperdoc’s face, but was quickly replaced by a wry smile as the man sighed, broad shoulders relaxing as he said, “I’m sorry too. I’m just… I worry about V. That’s not a good reason to jump down your throat about your relationship with him, though.” Viktor paused, then offered Kerry his hand, and the musician accepted it, glad to have cleared the air.

“Kid seems to worry everyone,” Kerry mused and both Misty and Vik heaved simultaneous sighs that made the musician grin.

“Just you wait,” Viktor mused ominously and Misty nodded, then stepped between them and served herself a mug of coffee.

“Thought you were off this stuff,” Kerry observed and the woman wrinkled her nose.

“It’s all the testosterone in here,” she complained. “I need it cope.”

Vik snorted but the woman ignored him and wandered back towards her shop. When she was gone, the ripperdoc jerked his head towards a divider at the back of the clinic and said, “V’s tucked back over there if you want to check on him. Just let me know when he wakes up; I’ll be sorting some inventory over here.”

“Thanks,” Kerry said, relieved and oddly nervous at finally having ‘permission’ to see his input. He delayed long enough to top off his coffee then made his way back towards the divider and found that it disguised a sitting area of sorts. Whether it was for Viktor’s personal use, or for patients, Kerry couldn’t guess, but there was a battered, comfortable looking sofa, and a small table that had been shoved out of the way to accommodate the gurney that dominated the space.

The musician hesitated at the entrance to the area, then put his coffee down on the table and his guitar case on the couch before moving to stand next to the bed. V lay there sleeping, the steady rise and fall of his chest inordinately reassuring to Kerry after the shape he’d found the man in the day before. Misty had been right on the phone, the mercenary already looked better than he had when he left. Well, mostly; he was definitely less pale thanks to the transfusion he’d received, but some rather fantastic bruises had begun to bloom across V’s chest and face while he slept.

“Got yourself a couple of real shiners, kid,” Kerry murmured, pained but relieved as he reached out and gently brushed a few stray strands of hair back from his input’s face before letting the pad of his thumb sweep over the curve of the man’s unbruised cheek. The mercenary didn’t so much as twitch at his touch, so after taking a moment to give V a brief once-over, Kerry settled onto the couch to wait and pulled out his guitar to pass the time.

When he’d grabbed the case, he hadn’t been sure which one it was, but on opening it he realized it was his orpheam. Considering how valuable it was, Kerry wished it had been just about any of his other guitars; he’d only just _finally_ gotten this one back after years apart. If anything happened to it now…

Well, it was here now and, on glancing up at V’s sleeping form, the musician couldn’t help but think the guitar’s warm tone was perfect for his little audience of one. Smiling to himself, Kerry dropped his gaze from the gurney and back to the instrument, sweeping a fond hand over the familiar curve of its cherry red body, then gave it a quick tune. He’d just been playing it the other day, so it wasn’t far off, and it didn’t take long before it was singing sweet as ever under the clever shift of his practiced fingers.

At this point in his life, playing guitar, any guitar, was as easy as breathing for the musician; hell, maybe even easier that, depending on the day. The notes dropped soft and thoughtful from the strings as Kerry’s thoughts wandered, picking up and abandoning potential melody lines one after the other while the minutes ticked by.

“Play the boat song. Like that one.”

Kerry’s head snapped up at the mumbled words, and for a moment he thought he might have imagined them until V’s head tilted slightly towards him and he thought he might be awake after all. “What?” he asked dumbly.

V drew in a deep breath and seemed to struggle to open his eyes, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Boat song,” he repeated, voice low and rough with sleep. “That riff you were playin’… on the yacht.”

Understanding finally dawning, Kerry’s eyebrows shot up but he couldn’t repress a smile as he shifted his fingers along his guitar’s neck and played the requested tune. “Like that one, huh?” he asked, pleased in spite of himself.

“Stuck in my head all week,” V complained and the musician chuckled, heart thundering irrationally behind his ribs at the admission.

He played for a bit, long enough that he thought V might have fallen back asleep, but when Kerry glanced up at him, it was to find the mercenary watching him with a half-lidded gaze. When their eyes met, V seemed to muster the energy needed to speak again, and said, “I _stole_ that guitar.”

Kerry cocked one brow, an amused smile taking over his lips at the statement. “Been havin’ some wild dreams on those preem pain killers Vik’s got you on, kid?”

V snorted, soft but insistent. “Stole it from some super-fan of yours. Got the job from padre last week,” he rasped and Kerry finally stopped playing as he realized his input was too lucid for his statement to be a drug-induced ramble.

“Holy shit, you’re serious,” he said, then put the instrument aside and stood so he could grab the bottle of water sitting nearby and offered it to V. The man accepted it gratefully, though Kerry had to steady his hand a moment before he was able to grasp it well enough to bring it to his lips and drink.

Thirst sated, V nodded and Kerry took the bottle back as the mercenary spoke again, more clearly this time. “Glad it got back where it belongs.” He paused, then frowned as he recalled, “Weird fucker had a pair of Johnny’s pants too.”

“Steal those too?” Kerry asked, grinning as he leaned against the side of the gurney.

“’Course.”

The musician laughed and, unable to resist the compulsion, reached out to gently cup V’s jaw with one hand. Trying and failing to ignore the way his stupid, decrepit heart practically skipped a beat when the man leaned into his touch, he asked “How you feelin’,” his eyes searching V’s for any sign that something was amiss after what he’d gone through yesterday.

“With you here? Just _fine_ , angel-face,” V said and smiled, only to wince when the motion pulled at one of his bruises.

Kerry dropped his hand and a bark of laugher escaped him at the new nickname, but where it might have irritated the rockerboy coming from literally anyone else, after the way V had called him an angel the day before too, well… it was kind of sweet. “This going to be a thing now?” he drawled in an attempt to cover his pleasure with their banter.

V hummed an affirmative, then turned his own hand where it rested on the blankets so it was palm up and wiggled his fingers at Kerry in a clear request for his.

Without hesitating, the musician slipped his hand into V’s and gave it a squeeze as he fought down the urge to get choked up at the tenderness of the gesture or the raw _relief_ he felt now that his input was awake and talking at long last. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat a little. “Guess I can let it slide if it’s _you_ callin’ me that, sweetheart.”

The epithet just sort of… _slipped out_ . Seriously, when was the last time he’d called _anyone_ sweetheart un-ironically? On seeing the way it made V smile, though, Kerry couldn’t take it back. Wouldn’t.

Feeling vaguely overwhelmed and way too emotional for his liking, Kerry leaned down and pressed a kiss to V’s brow, just shy of his hairline, then said, “Let me go grab Vik. He’s gonna kick my fuckin’ ass if you fall back asleep before he gets a chance to make sure your brains aren’t gonna ooze out your ears.”

“ _Feel_ a bit oozy, not gonna lie. Pro’lly just the drugs, though.” The mercenary raised his free hand and formed a ring with his index finger and thumb, then said, “Some seriously preem shit.”

Kerry laughed and patted V’s hand before releasing it and turning to go in search of the ripperdoc. “Only the best for our favorite gonk, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy this wound up way longer than intended 8'D Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!


	4. Nothing Ventured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably just one chapter (but maybe two) left in this installment after this! Don't worry, I have sequels planned ;D  
> Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!

“Alright, now track my finger for me,” Viktor instructed V as he tucked the light he’d checked the younger man’s eyes with back into his pocket.

V rolled his eyes instead. “Tellin’ ya I’m  _ fine _ , Vik,” he complained, still a bit lethargic, but not so bad as he’d been a few minutes before when Kerry had practically run to find the ripperdoc and tell him his patient had finally woken up.

He’d found him and Misty upstairs looking pensive over another cup of their rapidly depleting coffee and donut supply, discussing something as the woman put away her tarot cards. They’d taken one look at the rockerboy and immediately dashed back down to the clinic, leaving him to bring up the rear and instructed quite firmly to keep out of the way while Viktor worked.

Kerry had to admit that even his jaded old heart had been touched by their little family reunion. It had clearly taken everything in Misty to keep herself from throwing her arms around V and squeezing the life right back out of him, and even Viktor, difficult to ruffle though he was, looked on the verge of tears when V was able to speak normally with them. The merc grinned as best he could, clearly just as pleased to see them, though it quickly turned into a grimace when Viktor started in on a lecture about being more careful and asking for help rather than rushing in headfirst and getting himself half-killed like a gonk just because he had a terrorist in his head.

“Uh, sorry,” Viktor said and the musician blinked as he realized the ripperdoc was addressing  _ him _ , not V.

It clicked after a moment, that he was referring to Johnny, and Kerry shrugged, then waved him off. “Forget it; ain’t like you’re wrong.” He turned his attention back to V, and absently placed a hand on the blanket over the merc’s foot as he said, “’sides, seems like maybe he helped put things right.”

Everyone’s gaze locked onto V again and, in a gentle tone, Misty asked, “What happened in there, V? The scans says it looks like the chip has stabilized but-”

“How the hell’d you manage it?” Viktor finished for her as he crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the side of the gurney, clearly intent on getting an answer.

V looked tired but determined as he settled back into his pillows and slowly, with the occasional pause as he tried to organize his thoughts, explained what he and Johnny had discovered about Mikoshi, Soulkiller, and their plan to get Alt inside Arasaka so she could disentangle the two of them and save V’s life.

“Wait, wait-  _ Alt Cunningham _ ? Johnny’s old output?” Kerry asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep up. He’d thought he’d missed out on a lot from what Misty had told him; turned out there was even more V hadn’t been sharing with  _ her _ . Alt was a name he hadn’t thought about in decades, but she and Johnny’s fights (and subsequent make-ups) had been volatile enough that even fifty years down the line the rockerboy still remembered her. She’d always been way too clever for Johnny in his books, but, not wanting to get caught up in the crossfire, he’d kept his nose well out of their business.

V nodded. “She was a netrunner turned AI after she escaped beyond the Blackwall,” he explained. “Still out there after all these years. Got in touch, and she agreed to help.”

“Right. Sure. Okay,” Kerry said and rubbed his temples. “I ain’t anywhere  _ near  _ drunk enough for this, but okay.”

“Seconded,” Viktor said, mouth quirking up at the corner in a sympathetic smile when he caught the musician’s gaze, then waved for V to continue.

The story didn’t get anymore reassuring from there, particularly when the merc finally got to the part where he and Johnny hashed out their brilliant plan to storm Arasaka via the front door and fight their way through every samurai the corpos could throw at them on their way to the basement.

Viktor, Kerry, and Misty could only stare at him.

Kerry broke first. “Johnny- _ fuckin’ _ -Silverhand, everybody!” he shouted and threw his hands in the air, barely restraining the urge to kick the nearest piece of furniture in his outrage at his dead choom nearly getting his already dying input killed in the very  _ definition  _ of a hair-brained scheme. Furious, the musician paced back and forth across the small space, started to say something, then stopped as he realized he wouldn’t be able to manage it without screaming, and went back to pacing.

“For god’s sake, V,” Viktor said as he took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Where do I even  _ start _ ?”

V shifted uncomfortably under the blankets, looking annoyed but guilty. Gonk knew he’d been stupid listening to Johnny, clearly, but wasn’t quite ready to admit it, not when it seemed to have worked out well for him. “Look, you want to lecture or you want the rest of story?”

Kerry rounded on him sharply, full ready to launch into a (probably hypocritical) lecture of his own, but a sharp gesture from Viktor brought him up short. “Oh, you’re gonna get a damn lecture,” the ripperdoc said in a stern, disappointed tone the musician could only envy as he shook a finger at the injured mercenary, but relented a moment later. “But we’ll save it for when you can stand and take it without falling over.”

V winced and Kerry suspected Viktor was a man of his word if his input’s reaction was anything to go by. The mercenary turned to Misty for help, but she only shook her head and sighed, clearly of an opinion that he deserved it. When V looked at Kerry, the musician just twisted his mouth and said, “Don’t look at me, kid. Ya got it comin’ far as I’m concerned.”

All routes of escape exhausted, V heaved a sigh. “Some chooms,” he grumbled, though without any real heat before launching back into his story. “Everything’s kind of… fuzzy after I plugged in,” the man admitted, squinting up at the ceiling. “Talked to Alt- she reprogrammed the nanites in the chip to undo the damage they’d done and separated Johnny’s engram from mine.”

He went quiet suddenly and Kerry frowned, watching as his input’s jaw tightened reflexively. For a moment he assumed V was thinking about Johnny; wrapped up in each other’s heads the way they’d been, Kerry couldn’t blame him for being fucked up after getting separated so suddenly, but then Misty reached out and grasped his hand in both of hers and said, “You’re still you, V.”

Kerry and Viktor shared a look, but V’s attention was all for Misty. “Am I, though?” he asked, voice going rough and tight with emotion as tears threatened at the corners of his eyes for the first time. “In order to… fix me, she pulled me out of my own head and-” He stopped and took a deep, but unsteady breath.

For a long minute, no one seemed quite sure what to say, but Kerry hadn’t ever been the sort to let that stop him before. “Guy knockin’ around in your head the last few weeks, that Johnny Silverhand?”

“What?” V asked, confused by the question.

Intent on his input, Kerry stepped forward again and Viktor gave up his place at V’s bedside so the musician could sit on its edge. “’Cuz it sure sounded like him to me. Knew it was him from the way he played guitar that night you broke in. Talked to him for fuckin’ hours after that and it was like I’d turned around and it was 2020 again. Even got to play a show with him.” He knew he was rambling, but Kerry also knew that this moment might very well make or break the man, so he had to keep going in the vain hope he’d be able to get his meaning across. He pressed his hand over V’s in an attempt to convey his sincerity and continued, “Those were Johnny’s feelings, his chops on the guitar, our shared memories… so-  _ was that Johnny Silverhand _ ?”

“I-” V hesitated, brow furrowed as he searched Kerry’s eyes with his own, then looked at the ceiling again, an internal battle raging within him. “I could  _ feel  _ what he felt. He was worried ‘bout you after readin’ those screamsheets that said you’d-” he paused and looked back at the musician again. Kerry didn’t need to guess which ones he was talking about, and he squeezed V’s hand lightly with his own, prompting him to continue. The merc took a breath and admitted quietly, “It was always like that with him in my head. Feelin’ what I was feelin’, but also what  _ he  _ was feelin’… fuck.”

V reached up and covered his eyes with his free hand, but rather than try to reclaim the one Kerry had taken, twisted it so he could hold the musician’s hand in turn. It hurt to watch, but Kerry held on regardless, not only for V’s sake, but for his own. He remembered all too well what it felt like to reach breaking point- start coming apart at the seams… and how badly he’d wished there’d been someone there to hold him while he put himself back together again.

The musician’s throat felt so tight it hurt, and he couldn’t have gotten a word out even if he’d known what to say; luckily, Misty managed in his place.

“The things you and Johnny went through were real; two souls intertwined and experiencing the world together… that’s a powerful thing, V. You know better than any of us that he was real because Johnny wouldn’t have affected you this way if he wasn’t. And if he was real-”

“Then so are you,” Viktor concluded firmly.

Relieved the others had been ready to step up when his own words had failed, Kerry felt V’s grip on his hand tighten as the merc fought to keep his breathing steady. “I-uh… thanks.” He ground out eventually as he dropped his hand from his eyes and wiped absently at his damp cheeks. “I dunno, it’s probably gonna take awhile to wrap my head around. I don’t-” a weak, hoarse laugh escaped him and his arm dropped back onto the bedspread. “Ain’t got a clue why I’m lettin’ this shit bother me. Already woke up dead the once, probably too late to be worrying about it now.”

Kerry hummed and said, “Look, I ain’t a therapist or a philosopher or whatever- but if you think like you, act like you, and feel like you… you’re probably  _ you _ , sweetheart. You sure as hell ain’t Johnny, I can tell you that much.”

V managed another soft huff of laughter, and it seemed to Kerry that some of the tension had left his features. “Thanks, Ker,” he said softly then lifted the musician’s hands and pressed Kerry’s knuckles to his lips. Touched and relieved, the musician smiled at him, heart beating high and fast in his chest as the worry bled off of him when it became apparent they’d managed to talk his input back from a dangerous line of thought. Kerry didn’t particularly care if V’s consciousness existed in the wiring of his brain or the wiring of some cursed piece of Arasaka tech; V was V in his book. But, he had to admit that was easy enough for him to say when it wasn’t  _ his  _ mind on the line.

“And thanks for putting my gonk ass back together. Again,” V said and looked at Misty and Viktor.

The former rolled her eyes and smiled as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek while the latter snorted and put his sunglasses back on. “Keep it up and I’m going to start charging by the bullet hole,” the ripperdoc groused.

“You tryin’ to make me go broke?”

“If it’ll stop you doing gonk shit, yeah.”

“Cut it out, you two,” Misty chided them gently as she leaned over and pressed a light kiss to V’s forehead. “You should get some more rest,” she said, then glanced at Kerry with a mischievous little smile and added, “Maybe if you ask nice, Kerry will play you a lullaby.”

V’s expression lightened and his smile went coy as he turned his gaze back to Kerry, who couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Whatcha think, babe, wanna play me off to dreamland?”

“Well now, that depends,” Kerry said as he withdrew his hand from V’s and crossed his arms thoughtfully over his chest.

“On what?” the merc asked with something dangerously close to a pout.

The musician grinned and leaned in a little. “On how nice you ask me.”

“Well, I’m just going to go reassess that data we got from your brain scans last night now that I know more-or-less what happened with the chip,” Viktor declared, drawing both men’s attention. They watched the ripperdoc spin on heel and disappear past the partition, Misty following close behind with an amused smile on her face. Vik poked his head back around a second later, though, and pointed threateningly at Kerry. “If I find a  _ single  _ popped stitch on him, I’m coming for you, Eurodyne. He is on  _ strict  _ bed rest, no… exerting himself.”

Kerry held up his hands and said, “I’ve seen enough of his insides on his outsides to last me a lifetime. He pops any stitches it’s his own damn fault.”

Viktor hummed and narrowed his eyes, but let the subject drop and disappeared from sight once more. V sighed a little and managed to smile up at the musician once Vik had gone, and said, “Kinda puts a limit on just how nice I can ask you to play for me.”

Kerry chuckled and leaned down to press a light kiss to the corner of his input’s mouth, careful to avoid the split in his lip. V seemed to have other ideas, though, and before the musician could pull back, he reached up to cradle the back of Kerry’s head with his hand, and turned so their lips met anyways. Resisting the temptation to deepen the kiss was difficult, but it got easier when he felt V flinch against him after the merc pressed forward a little too eagerly.

“Damn,” the mercenary complained with a wince as his tongue flicked out and over the cut on his lip reflexively.

“I was tryin’ to be good for once,” Kerry mused, then stood from the gurney, grabbed up his guitar, and dropped onto the couch. The musician made himself comfortable and played a few idle chords as, in a teasing tone, he said, “No worries, though, I don’t mind openin’ a tab for ya; you bein’ my input and all.”

“Mighty kind of you,” V said with a huff as he settled back into his pillows once more.

* * *

Exhausted after so much talking, it didn’t take long for V to drift off to sleep again, though Kerry kept playing for awhile after that regardless, just to be certain he stayed asleep. Besides, he felt like he was onto something with the tune he was plucking away at. It was softer, gentler than anything he’d written in a long time… but then, how else was he supposed to feel in a moment like this?

It was embarrassingly sappy, really, and Kerry couldn’t even begin to consider including the new tune on an album but… that didn’t make it any less important. He could just add it to his personal library and call it something corny like ‘mercenary’s lullaby’…

The musician grimaced at himself and silenced his guitar with one hand; christ, what a maudlin idea.

… since when the fuck did he use words like  _ maudlin _ ?

Casting a sideways look at the sleeping man on the bed, it occurred to Kerry that he might be even deeper in this than he realized, and he’d felt the bottom go out from under his feet weeks ago.

Deciding he needed a little air, Kerry carefully set his guitar aside and got to his feet, stretching a bit before stepping past the partition and into the main room of the clinic. He could see Vik over in the corner staring at a series of computer monitors showing a bunch of complicated looking data sets and diagrams, and decided not to bother him. Instead, he left the clinic and went up to check on Misty.

The interior of her shop really felt like a different world compared to the clinic, and even more so in contrast to the raucous chaos of the city outside the front door. It was nice, though, Kerry thought as he took a breath of the warm, close air, heavy with a mild incense that tickled his nose while simultaneously setting his mind at ease.

“He finally asleep?” Misty asked, peering at him from the front of the shop where she appeared to be dusting some knick-knacks.

“Has been for awhile,” Kerry said as he ambled towards her. The musician examined her collection curiously and picked up a little wooden statuette that he suspected was a llama but might, in fact, have been a particularly leggy dog, then absently ran his fingers over the fine grain of its fur to distract himself from the worries that were beginning to press at the back of his mind again. “You think he’s gonna be okay?” he asked finally, voice low and reluctant, like some outside force had dragged the words out past his teeth with a pair of pliers. “Not physically; doc seems to have taken care of that fine, but…”

“Spiritually?” Misty finished for him and Kerry nodded as he put the statuette back and heaved a sigh.

“That that stuff about him not bein’ sure if he’s really  _ him…  _ that ain’t an easy thought to come back from,” the musician continued after a moment, frowning into the middle distance.

Misty nodded and hummed thoughtfully. “V’s incredibly strong, but we all have our weaknesses,” she said eventually and went back to her dusting. “And I can’t even imagine what it is he went through in Mikoshi or what it felt like, but-” the woman tilted her head and looked at Kerry, smile returning, “I know what you said earlier helped him. I don’t think there’s much we can do to help V in the  _ practical  _ sense when it comes to that sort of crisis except support him and remind him that, wherever the line between human soul and artificial consciousness might lay, we care about him.”

Kerry smiled at the woman, relaxing a little as her reassuring words and steady demeanor helped bring some order back to his apprehensive thoughts. “You’re right,” he agreed and ran his hand absently through his hair, then cut Misty a sidelong look and said, “Anyone ever tell ya you got what it takes to be a killer guru?”

Misty laughed and gestured the shop around them. “Well, I am  _ trying _ ,” she said, then sighed a little and added, “You can lead a horse to water, as the saying goes.”

Kerry snorted, amused. “Night City makes for one coked-out horse.”

“It does, but I guess that’s just all the more reason to try,” the would-be guru mused. They both chuckled at the mental picture, and when they’d got it out of their system, Misty said, “Vik is probably going to want to keep V here for at least a couple of days; so I was thinking of going over to his apartment to grab a few of his things. You want to come with?”

“To V’s place?” Kerry asked, eyebrows shooting up, immediately intrigued, then hesitated. “Eh, doubt he’d want me over there without him…”

Something like amusement flickered over Misty’s features, but she quickly schooled it away and said, “I seriously doubt he’d mind.” When the musician continued doubtful in spite of his very obvious interest, she added, “It’s gonna be an armful, I could use the extra pair of hands.”

Even that meager offer was enough to break Kerry’s tenuous resolve, and he said, “Yeah, alright. Lemme call Junior, I’m sure he’d be willing to give us a ride if we explain it’s for V.”

“Junior?”

“Long story. Or so I’m told.”

* * *

Junior, it turned out, was more than happy to drive the pair of them to V’s place, so once Misty had apprised Viktor of their plan, she and Kerry piled into the AI’s back seat and were on their way. Turned out it wasn’t much of a drive, actually, as V lived in the nearest megabuilding that loomed over Watson like a monolith.

It’d been a long,  _ long  _ time since Kerry had last been in one, but the air inside was so viscerally familiar as they got into the elevator that the musician suddenly felt twenty-five years old again, skezzed out of his skull and stumbling back from a late gig to catch a few hours sleep before he had to be up for his day job…

“You alright, Kerry?” Misty asked, noticing his distraction.

The musician gave himself a mental shake and pulled his baseball cap down a little as the elevator finally rattled to a stop. “Yeah. Been awhile, is all,” he mused with a wry smile as they stepped out of the elevator and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Just… brought back a lot of memories.”

“Not exactly North Oak,” Misty remarked as they turned into a hallway and headed for the first door they came to, rummaging in her pocket for something as she went.

“Nah,” Kerry agreed with a snort as he looked up and down the hall at the piled up garbage, the listless neighbors, and the flickering lights. It all combined to give the place a sense of hopeless despair that churned uneasily over the ever-hectic pulse of the city.

The resulting malaise was the same reckless delirium that had haunted all the world’s greatest cities since the first rise of Rome; that insidious little whisper in the back of your head that insisted if you just hustled a bit harder, got that one big break, you’d be able to drag yourself up out of obscurity; you’d finally  _ make it _ in the city.

It was all a lie, of course. Kerry was one of the privileged few that  _ had  _ managed to claw his way to ‘success’, so he knew that better than most. The flavor of the despair was different on either side of the proverbial fence, depending on if you walked among the dirt and grime or glitz and chrome, but it lingered all the same. Granted, the struggle to survive was less immediate and more existential than practical when you lived in North Oak. Kerry never wondered where his next meal was going to come from these days, or if he was going to miss rent and have to go back to living out of his car again for a few months, and yet...

One too many long, dark body shots of the soul eventually revealed just how empty his life had become, how distant and cold. Like he’d wrapped himself up in chrome and forgotten what the sun felt like on his skin, what it really felt like to  _ connect  _ with people. He’d always wondered at how someone could feel lonely in a crowded room until the day he’d been at a party talking to some pretty young thing and realized that neither they, nor anyone else in the room, knew anything about him. Not really. Worst part was that they didn’t even particularly want to. They wanted rockerboy Kerry; life of the party, generous with his money, influential…

None of them would want anything to do with the Kerry that was riddled with anxiety over the day he’d finally start to slip from the spotlight and begin his inevitable slide into obscurity. The Kerry that was finding it harder and harder to leave his house for reasons he couldn’t quite put a pin to yet. The Kerry with hangups about an old choom turned terrorist that had gone on to kill twelve-thousand people and maybe if he’d paid a bit more attention to the gonk instead of pulling away and lashing out he might have been able to be a voice of reason.

They  _ definitely  _ didn’t want anything to do with the Kerry that had started his career screaming about the state of the world and its decline as corporations pushed their way into the lives of every day people and ground them down into the foundations so they could grow bigger, greater, more all-encompassing. He was still there, hiding behind the chrome and the new kiroshi optics, howling his rage at an unjust system that sacrificed life for profit and the world for resources, rattling the bars of the cage Kerry had locked him in on his way to the top. Blood sacrifice to the corporations that lifted him up and let him sing his little rebel ballads, but only so long as they weren’t  _ too  _ rebellious.

Rebellion wasn’t profitable, after all.

Misty finally found the key to V’s apartment and opened the door, then ushered Kerry inside before shutting it firmly behind them.

Caught up in his own memories of the last megabuilding he’d lived in, the apartment was bigger than the musician had been expecting, and certainly cleaner, considering the occupant definitely hadn’t been expecting guests. It was surprisingly warm, too; not in temperature, but in atmosphere, and despite feeling distinctly like an intruder, Kerry also felt… comfortable.

There were signs of V everywhere as Kerry stepped further into the space while Misty busied herself rummaging through the shelves off to the right of the door. Posters, a piece of art hanging in the corner that seemed completely out of place with the rest of the decor, and various knick-knacks told the musician more about his input’s tastes and interests than he could have learned in hours of conversation. There was a maneki neko similar to the ones he’d seen in Misty’s shop on the counter in the bathroom; lips curling fondly at the sight of it, Kerry plucked it up and turned it absently over in his calloused fingers before putting it back where he’d found it. While he was there, he grabbed up V’s toothbrush and a few other things, then went back to where Misty had found a small duffel bag and was currently folding up a few shirts to place inside.

She smiled gratefully and accepted the toiletries from him before sitting back on her heels and humming thoughtfully as she looked around for something else. While she did so, Kerry meandered over toward the door on the right side of the room and poked his head inside as it slid open automatically, then whistled when he saw the contents.

Guns. Lots of guns. All of them very neatly organized, each with it’s place on a rack or a custom cut display on the wall, with the exception of one laid out on a cloth on the worktable.

Curious, Kerry stepped fully inside and went to examine the collection before turning his attention to the gun on the table. It was partially disassembled; V was clearly in the middle of cleaning it judging by the other tools scattered across the surface, but that didn’t stop him from recognizing it.

Archangel. The pistol he’d given V the night of the reunion show.

The musician’s heart gave a nonsensical little flutter at the sight of it and a goofy smile briefly overtook his face. Stupid. It was just a gun and V was a merc, of course he was going to use it. He was obviously the type to take meticulous care of his weapons, his life relied on them, after all. The fact he was doing the same for the gun Kerry had given him didn’t mean anything  _ special _ .

…He did like the idea of  _ his  _ pistol being the one V used to protect himself out on a job, though.

Kerry left the gun room before he could make any more of a fool of himself and started towards the window, looking for a distraction, but froze before he could take more than two steps when something strange caught his eye.

“Oh my _ God _ , what the  **_fuck_ ** is  _ that _ ,” he exclaimed as his gaze caught the huge, luminous eyes of the squat, naked little gremlin creature crouched on V’s sofa amidst a few stray throw pillows.

“What?” Misty asked, brow knit with confusion as she turned to see what Kerry meant while the musician rounded the sofa and carefully scooped up the sphinx cat sitting there so he could get a better look at it. “Oh,  _ there  _ she is,” the woman said as she moved to join him, concern easing immediately. “That’s Nibbles, V’s cat.”

“She’s  _ so ugly _ , I  **_love_ ** her,” Kerry proclaimed with a grin and a laugh as he gently stroked one hand over the animal’s saggy, furless skin. To his delight, the cat purred at the attention and he glanced at Misty. “No idea V had a cat,” he admitted with a bit of a frown that he hadn’t even known something that basic about his input.

Misty reached out and gently rubbed one of Nibble’s ears, then withdrew her hand again and said, “Well, he only got her recently, and it’s not like he has a proper license for her; he was probably just worried someone might overhear and rat him out.” She cut him a sidelong look and said, “Or maybe he was worried you weren’t a cat person.”

“I fuckin’ love cats,” Kerry said, almost offended by the insinuation, so much so that Misty laughed. “We’re bringing her with us, right?” he asked as Nibble’s eyes began to slide shut when his fingers found the soft spot behind her ears.

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Misty said, amused as she watched the unlikely pair. “V’s left her with me a few times, so I’ve got most of what she needs at the shop, just have to grab some of her food.”

“Your daddy spoils you, huh? Gets you a babysitter when he’s gonna be home late?” Kerry crooned to the cat who simply thrummed contentedly in his arms. “Where’d V even get his hands on a cat?” the musician asked curiously as Misty zipped up the duffel and slung it over one of her slim shoulders.

“Found her in the dumpster, apparently. Poor thing was half-starved, all skin and bones,” she said with an exasperated smile at her friend’s antics.

Kerry heaved a sigh and Misty laughed, seeming to understand him perfectly. There it was again, those boyscout tendencies of his; helping frightened girls, grumpy old men, and helpless little animals wherever he went… When he wasn’t busy, you know, beating the hell out of violent thugs and elite assassins and shit, anyways.

Thinking of his input’s better angels brought to mind Kerry’s own, and he held out a hand to take the duffel from Misty. “Hey, lemme get that. You can take miss kitty here.”

The woman gave him a considering look, then shook her head and smiled. “Nah, I think I might get scratched if I tried at this point,” she observed as Nibbles blinked contentedly, making Kerry look down at her, inordinately pleased that the animal liked him so much. “Besides, you have a better jacket to keep her out of sight with; we don’t want V to get in trouble with the building admin.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong, so Kerry relented and carefully juggled the cat as he zipped up his leather jacket, then tucked Nibbles inside. “You behave in there or I’ll tell your dad,” he told her. “I’ll let you out in the car.”

“Ready?” Misty asked when they were settled, trying and failing to suppress her amusement.

Kerry pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his baseball cap for an extra layer of protection from prying eyes, then checked on Nibbles one last time and said, “All set. Lead on, chicacita.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably just one chapter (but maybe two) left in this installment after this! Don't worry, I have sequels planned ;D  
> Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was, I love hearing that from you guys!


	5. The Hermit and the Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this bit went longer than expected, so you guys get one more chapter after this after all XD  
> Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was! love hearing that from you guys!

No one took any particular notice of the two people leaving V’s apartment carrying more stuff than they’d arrived with, or the fact that one of them looked like he’d somehow put on an extra ten pounds while he was in there. A stranger got on the elevator with them halfway down to the garage, and Kerry feigned a great deal of interest in the passing scenery out the windows rushing past one side, back to the other occupant while Misty positioned herself to cover him.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the musician and he flashed the woman a brief smile that she returned, though they both breathed easier when the stranger headed the opposite direction from them when they all got off at the ground floor. Junior pulled around just as they made it to the curb, only pausing long enough for Misty to throw the duffel in the trunk and all of them to clamber into the backseat before taking off again.

“Mission accomplished,” Kerry proclaimed with a pleased grin and unzipped the front of his jacket to check on his passenger. Nibbles blinked up at him and yawned, but made no move to extricate herself from her makeshift den. The musician’s grin widened further at the sight and he reached inside to stroke his fingers across the top of the cat’s head, then let her be, just as happy to have her on his lap as she seemed to be there. He looked up and found Misty watching him again with a funny little smile and crooked a brow at her over the rim of his sunglasses. “What?”

The woman only shook her head, and asked, “Should we get something to eat on the way back?”

“God, yes. I’m fuckin’ starving,” Kerry said, full force of his hunger hitting him as soon as his mind turned to food. Other than the coffee and donut he’d had this morning, he hadn’t eaten a damn thing since late afternoon the day previous with all the chaos. “V likes Chinese, right?” He asked, brow furrowing as he thought back to some of their text exchanges. They’d yet to have what one might call a ‘proper’ date (even he had to admit that arson and a swim in the bay didn’t  _ quite _ qualify), but he was pretty confident his input had mentioned a fondness for the stuff.

“He does,” Misty said, seeming pleased on her friend’s behalf that Kerry remembered as much. “Orange synth-chicken and lo mein are his go-to,” she added.

“’Course they are, my man’s got good taste,” Kerry said, pleased. Misty chuckled and the musician leaned forward to give Junior the address to his favorite Chinese restaurant.

The place didn’t normally do curbside pickup, but Kerry knew the owner and lots of people were willing to make exceptions to the rules when you, A) had a few extra eddies to throw around, and B) promised to come back and dine in person to attract a little extra attention to the restaurant with your celebrity.

“You didn’t have to go this far out of your way, Kerry,” Misty said as the waiter that had been sent out with their food passed bag after bag through the window and into the musician’s waiting hands before he passed them on to her. If the man noticed the hairless cat perched up in the back window of the car he didn’t comment, just smiled when Kerry paid and thanked him for his business before going back inside.

“It ain’t goin’ out of my way,” the musician said as he helped her organize their packages on the seat between them so they wouldn’t topple if Junior came to a sudden stop. “Kinda the opposite,” he corrected with a cheeky grin that made Misty raise an eyebrow. “Bein’ downright selfish; this is one of my favorite Chinese places, you’re just along for the ride, chica.”

Amused, Misty hummed and watched as the musician carefully plucked up Nibbles before she could jump down amongst their lunch when the scent of food caught her attention and placed her on his lap with gentle hands. “Sure,” she mused skeptically as Kerry avoided her gaze. “Definitely not trying to impress V with a fancy dinner in bed or anything?” Misty asked, tone lightly teasing.

Kerry scoffed at the suggestion. “Really think some fancy synth-chicken is enough to impress a guy like him?”

“If he knew someone had gone out of their way to get him his favorite food when he wasn’t feeling well, it probably would,” Misty replied with calm confidence that finally forced the musician to glance at her sidelong. When he didn’t reply immediately, the woman leaned back in her seat and continued, “He doesn’t have a lot of people to do that sort of thing for him,” then paused and corrected herself, “Doesn’t have a lot of people he’d  _ let  _ do that sort of thing for him.”

It was stupid, really. Kerry knew he shouldn’t feel self-conscious for going out of his way to do something nice for his input; it was a normal thing to do in a relationship, after all. Still, for the first time in a long time, he was afraid he might overdo it; weird V out and scare him off. It didn’t take much getting to know the guy to understand that while he clearly aspired to his own wealth and comfort, to leave his mark on the world, he didn’t want it just  _ handed  _ to him. The thought that, for once, he didn’t have to worry that someone he was interested in was just looking for a hot sugar daddy was almost enough to make Kerry laugh. No, he definitely wouldn’t be able to  _ buy  _ his way into V’s affections, especially not if he really was looking for something long term…

Eyes on the view rushing past the window, Kerry asked, “Think I’m one?” A burst of laughter from his companion made the man snap around to look at her though, and he scowled. “Ain’t gotta  _ laugh  _ about it,” he complained, stung by her amusement.

Misty rolled her eyes. “Kerry, if you’re actually asking that question, you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The musician wanted to ask her if she meant it, but his pride wouldn’t let him; instead, he reached forward and turned on the screen built into the back of the driver’s seat to catch up on the day’s news for the rest of the drive.

Misty had been right that morning when she’d said Arasaka had more immediately pressing issues on its plate that finding one merc in the rat warren that was Night City. Kerry (and every reporter covering the subject) had no idea  _ exactly  _ what his input and the ghost of his dead choom had gotten up to in the bowels of the corporate tech titan, but their stock was falling faster than a rock dropped from the top floor of that stupid ziggurat of theirs and the entire company, both domestic and abroad, was in complete disarray.

“Shit,” he commented to Misty as he stroked Nibbles distractedly, eyes still on the screen. “You weren’t fuckin’ kidding.”

The woman hummed her agreement. “Vik figures all the chaos will probably buy V about a week to get back on his feet- or at least under cover, so that’s good.”

Neither of them had any idea what the effect on Night City itself would be, and after doing the rounds of a few different news channels, it became obvious that no one else did either.

With his immediate concerns about V’s safety put to rest for the moment, Kerry felt more at ease by the time the arrived back at the clinic, food, supplies, and cat in hand. This time, the musician took the duffel as well as the cat, while Misty wrangled their bags of food and hurried inside. Lingering behind on the curb, Kerry ducked down to look at the screen in back of the driver’s seat where Junior’s face was displayed and said, “Thanks, Junior, ‘preciate it. So does V.”

“O-oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Eurodyne, I’m- well, I’m happy to be of assistance!” the AI replied, seeming flustered by the rockerboy’s gratitude. Then again, Junior seemed flustered by just about everything.

Thinking of something that hadn’t occurred to him before, Kerry asked, “You alright on gas? You’ve been cartin’ my ass all over town; feel bad not payin’.”

“Thanks so much for th-the concern! I assure you I’m quite, um, quite alright, however. My father, Delamain, left me all his, you know, assets? Before he, well… left.”

Kerry let out a low whistle, impressed. “Helluva legacy, choom. Figured out what you’re gonna do with it?”

“W-well, no; not yet,” Junior admitted, sounding a little deflated. “I’m only a week old, you see. I, uh, frankly I have no idea what I want to do with my life as yet.”

“Hey, no need to rush it,” Kerry reassured him. “I’ve been around eighty fuckin’ years and I still don’t know what I’m doing at  _ least  _ half the time.”

Junior’s avatar on the screen smiled. “Th-thank you, Mr. Eurodyne, I- um, I appreciate it. Would you like a ride home later?”

“So long as you ain’t got somethin’ better to be doin’.”

“Not at all! I- well, I might run a few errands, but I-I’m available at your leisure.”

“Preem, I’ll give you a call later tonight, then,” Kerry said and gave the car a fond slap on the roof as he straightened, Nibbles starting to squirm a bit in the front of his jacket.

“Until then.”

The musician closed the passenger door and then moved quickly inside the shop as Nibbles began to let her displeasure be known with her claws through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“Ow, ow-ow-ow-ow-OW!” Kerry yelped and dropped the duffel as soon as the door shut behind him then immediately unzipped his jacket. Nibbles sprang free before he could grab her and landed neatly on the floor where she immediately shook herself and strolled away like she hadn’t just tried to eviscerate him. “That all the thanks I get?” the musician complained loudly as he shucked his jacket then pulled up the front of his hoodie and the shirt beneath to check how badly his passenger had gotten him.

“You alright?” Misty asked from her place behind the counter where she was laying out their meal, peering into boxes to figure out what was what.

Kerry grunted and frowned a little at the scratches V’s cat had left behind; fine red lines indicating her displeasure, and said, “Mostly. Think she might’ve been tryin’ to gut me, though,” he grumbled as he dropped his shirt and ambled over to the counter.

Misty chuckled. “Honestly, I’m surprised she put up with it as long as she did. She really must like you.”

The musician hummed and tried to feign indifference to the statement, though he suspected he didn’t pull it off judging by the way his companion smiled at him. “We eatin’ up here?” he asked with a frown, thinking he would have rather set up down by V rather than all the way up in the shop.

“I called Vik while you were outside; he’s with a patient and he said V is still out, so we should eat and just bring down some plates later,” Misty explained. Suppressing a smile at the flicker of disappointment that crossed Kerry’s face, she added, “Or, you could wait and reheat both your plates once the clinic is clear and eat then.”

Knowing she had his number, Kerry cut Misty a sidelong glance but she was pointedly not looking at him now, all her attention on serving herself lunch on a paper plate she had produced from somewhere while he was outside. “How ‘bout a little a both?” he said and snagged an egg roll from a bag as well as a packet of sweet and sour to tide himself over.

She chuckled and they chatted while she ate and Kerry polished off the egg roll; mostly about her brief time in Tibet, and a little about his own time there, years ago. Once Misty had finished, however, she cleaned up and pushed aside the rest of the food they’d procured and asked, “How about that tarot reading?”

“Sure, why not,” Kerry mused, absently licking a bit of remaining grease off the pad of his thumb while the woman reached under the counter and procured her cards. “Never really had one before, though,” the musician admitted. “How’s this work? I pick a card and you tell me my future?” he asked with a roguish grin as he leaned on the counter top.

“No,” Misty said with a huff of laughter as she spread the cards across the counter any old way, then said, “First, you mix these up for me; just be careful not to bend them. We’ll do a basic three card spread for you- past, present, and future, see what the cards have to say about that.”

Interest peaked, Kerry nodded and used both hands to mix the cards, spreading them wider across the surface to let the thick pieces of card stock blend better. “Like this?”

“Mmhm,” Misty said with an approving nod and watched him go at it for a minute longer, then took the cards back, sweeping them into a neat stack with a practiced hand that let them flow and slide easily between her slender fingers.

“You make all your clients mix their own cards?” Kerry asked, amused as he watched her, chin propped up on his hand.

“Just the ones I want to get particularly accurate reads for,” Misty answered as the cards finally stilled in her hands and she placed them on the counter before her. “You could say it helps tune them to your particular energy,” she explained and plucked a single card from the top of the deck. “Now, lets see about your past, shall we?”

“Two outta ten stars, don’t recommend it,” Kerry quipped to cover the unexpected bout of nerves that suddenly overtook him, making his stomach feel like a particularly rowdy mosh pit.

Misty didn’t reply as she turned the card over and placed it on the counter between them, revealing a hooded man with a staff and a light of some sort, drawn in striking blacks, yellows, and oranges. “The hermit reversed,” the woman mused thoughtfully as she tapped it idly with one carefully painted nail. “You went off on your own at some point out of necessity, to find or reconnect with yourself.” Misty’s words rang true, but Kerry wasn’t terribly impressed, considering his penchant for taking the occasional hiatus to go see his guru wasn’t exactly uncommon knowledge. Her next statement cut much more closely to home, though, as she continued, “But it’s gone too far, now. You’ve been feeling lonely, isolated, cut off from the rest of the world but too afraid to reconnect.”

Feeling uncomfortably seen, Kerry kept his mouth shut and Misty pulled the next card, then placed it next to the first, a soft, almost amused, smile lighting her features. “Well that’s gotta be a good sign,” the musician said and her eyes flicked up to him.

“The fool,” she said with a note of fondness in her voice.

“Alright, I take it back.”

The woman laughed and shook her head. “The fool is like the first look at the open road to anywhere; the promise of adventure. It’s encouragement to dive into the unknown and be open to new experiences.” Misty’s smile widened and she added, “It’s V’s patron card.”

“Patron card?” Kerry asked curiously as he reached out and plucked the card from the table to get a closer look at it. The image was of a man and his dog, the former looking for all the world like he was about to step off the edge of a roof.

“Sometimes one card in particular can resonate with a person; that’s what I’ve always felt about V and the fool. Like they’re on the same wavelength.” The woman took the card from him and put it back on the counter. “He’s always off on some new adventure, taking things as they come.”

“Well, if anyone can roll with the punches, it’s him,” Kerry mused and Misty nodded. “How about the future, then?” the musician asked, jerking his chin towards the deck and his companion obliged him by pulling the third and final card.

A woman in pink made her appearance and Misty’s expression lit up at the sight of her. “The star,” she proclaimed, pleased. “Oh, Kerry, how  _ wonderful _ !”

“Yeah?” Kerry asked, leaning in a little for a better look, heart rate picking up unexpectedly. “I mean, she  _ looks  _ like good news,” he said with a lopsided grin. “What’s it mean?”

Hands folded delightedly in front of her, Misty explained, “The star represents hope and happiness; relief after a long series of challenges. It’s a sign that things will conspire in your favor if you’re willing to put the work in.” The woman’s expression softened a little as she turned earnest blue eyes to meet Kerry’s and added, “It also says that you’ve been through a lot, and that you’ve learned a lot too- all without letting your experiences harden your heart.”

Mouth suddenly dry, all hint of amusement dropping away, Kerry met Misty’s gaze and said, “Oh, huh-” though his words came out a raspy mess, forcing him to clear his throat and straighten. “I… preem. That’s, uh, real preem. Thanks.”

Jesus, was he  _ blushing _ over a little  _ fortune  _ telling?

Alright, he was man enough to admit that maybe he was. The fuck else was he supposed to do after hearing all that? “So, uh-” he said, voice a little gruff as he tried to cover. “Basically, don’t close myself off, get ready for a new adventure, and things will go my way?” he summarized, ticking off points on his fingers as he went.

“Basically!” Misty replied brightly with a happy sigh. “It’s a wonderful reading; I’ll be rooting for the two of you,” she added with a wink.

* * *

V was already half-awake by the time Vik finished up with his patient, and the smell of food was more than enough to pull him the rest of the way into consciousness when Kerry and Misty arrived bearing reheated fancy takeout.

“Damn, babe, just when I thought you couldn’t get anymore angelic, here you are answerin’ my prayers,” V proclaimed, voice still a little rough from sleep as he pushed himself higher on the bed so he could prop himself up, wide smile lighting his features.

The musician just snorted, ignoring the little flutter his stomach gave at the sight of that bright smile and distracted his input by plopping Nibbles onto his lap. “Found her pinin’ for you,” he teased then passed off the bag of food he’d been carrying in his other hand to Viktor, who had come around the partition to see what all the fuss was about.

“Heyyy pretty kitty,” V crooned at the cat as he reached out and ran his hands fondly over her furless skin. The cat seemed pleased to see him, and she turned, purring, to crawl up his abdomen to settle down on the merc’s chest, where she curled up in a ball by his chin. The man laughed and pet her, then pressed a kiss to the top of her wrinkled head. “Missed you too.”

Already halfway through an egg roll, Vik drawled, “Careful, V; certain people might get  _ jealous _ .”

The mercenary’s gaze flicked up to meet Kerry’s and the man twitched as he realized he’d been caught staring. He scowled, then turned and reached as if to take the egg roll back from the ripperdoc. “You give that back if you’re gonna talk shit,” the musician groused, but Vik dodged him easily and polished off the rest of the roll in one go then licked his fingers just for effect. “Bastard,” Kerry grumbled.

“Geezer,” the doctor fired back, but before Kerry could try to take a swing at him, Misty swatted Vik’s arm then pointed at him with one stern finger and a look that said ‘ _ behave’ _ .

“Kerry and I went to your place and picked up a few of your things,” Misty explained to V as she passed him the plate she’d prepped. “Then Kerry got us food on the way back,” she said with a smile at the musician who shrugged and grabbed himself a plate.

“Thanks,” V said, eagerly accepting the food and immediately digging in, having to turn his face to one side as he ate to keep Nibbles from stealing his chicken. “Fuck, this is  _ good _ ,” he said halfway through his first mouthful. Seeing Kerry leaning against his gurney, the merc drew his feet back, making room for the musician to take a seat, which he did, inordinately pleased at how much his input seemed to like the food.

“It is,” Vik agreed, then looked at Kerry and said, “Thanks for buying. What do we owe you?”

Kerry just snorted and pretended like he hadn’t heard the question, turning his attention back to V instead. “We’ll try it fresh, next time; even better when it hasn’t been reheated.”

“It’s a date,” the mercenary said with a pleased grin.

Misty had already eaten, but she settled on the couch to talk while the men ate, eventually taking Nibbles back from V so the merc could eat in peace. Kerry and Vik continued to needle one another, though the musician found he had a lot more patience for the back-and-forth than he normally might have; Vik could take as good as he gave, at least. Besides, it was hard to stay angry at the man who had saved his input’s life (multiple times, apparently), and underneath it all, there didn’t seem to be any real venom to his words. There was something about the ripperdoc that made the musician want to earn his trust rather than just cut him off altogether, which was uncommon for him; probably because V and Misty both not only cared about Vik, but obviously respected him too. Kerry hadn’t known Misty long, but it didn’t take much to realize the girl had a good head on her shoulders and a kind heart; he had no doubt she was a good judge of character.

And V, well… V had Kerry wrapped around his little finger, of course he trusted his opinion on people.

When the supply of Chinese food had been successfully demolished, Vik went back to his work and Misty returned to her shop, leaving Nibbles to curl up at the foot of V’s gurney while he and Kerry remained behind. They continued to chat until the food started to catch up to the merc, leaving the man yawning and struggling to keep his eyes open in a way the musician found offensively adorable.

Honestly, what gave him the  _ right _ ?

Unable to suppress a fond smile, Kerry said, “Get some shuteye, kid.”

“Sticking around?” V asked, his hopeful tone making the musician snort lightly and totally fail to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the question.

“Yeah,” he replied and reached over for his guitar bag, though rather than withdraw the instrument itself, he fished around in the outer pocket and fetched out a notepad and pen, as well as his earbuds. “Got some demos to go over, can do that here as well as anywhere else.”

V settled back more comfortably in his pillows, careful not to nudge Nibbles, and asked, “Gonna let me listen soon?”

“Ask me again when your ribs ain’t busted.”

V’s lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t respond, and for several minutes, it seemed as though the mercenary had dropped right off to sleep as Kerry leaned back into the sofa cushions and turned his attention to the first track on the list. The peace didn’t last long as V rolled over onto his side- or rather, tried to; he winced then returned immediately to his back.

“Kerry,” he said, low, rough voice cutting through the music with surprising ease and making the musician look over as he removed one earbud.

“What’s wrong?” Kerry asked immediately and paused the track. His input’s eyes were still closed, but he was obviously awake if the disgruntled frown pulling at his lips was anything to go by.

A moment of silence, and then, “I’m cold.”

A small huff of amusement escaped the musician and the little bubble of worry that had been building behind his ribs burst and faded altogether. Kerry set aside his notepad and got to his feet, “Want me to ask Vik if he’s got any more blankets stashed around this crypt a’ his?” Below ground and totally windowless as it was, the clinic  _ was _ a bit chill.

“No,” V answered and cracked open one eye as Kerry quirked a brow at the unexpected answer. “Got you, don’t I?” he asked, both eyes open now as he glanced up at the musician from under the sweep of his dark lashes in a way that did a real number on the man’s heart rate. “Here’s as good as there for listenin’ to demos, ain’t it?”

The mercenary reached out with one hand and caught the sleeve of Kerry’s hoodie, then gave it a tug the musician was totally unable to resist. “Yeah,” Kerry agreed distractedly as he let his input pull him closer to the edge of the gurney, feeling a bit like the butterflies in his stomach had gone from fluttering to moshing in the time it took V to give him a single look.

Santa Muerte help him, kid was gonna give him heart failure at this rate.

“No funny business or Vik’s gonna come in here and whoop both our asses,” Kerry warned gruffly as an afterthought as he kicked off his boots and settled onto the extremely narrow mattress next to V. The moment he was halfway comfortable, the mercenary pressed in flush against him, forcing Kerry to lift his arm and wrap it around his input’s shoulders to accomodate him; not that he minded.

V snorted a little at the warning as he dropped his head onto Kerry’s chest, pleased smile pulling at his lips. “Gonna be a regular laugh riot once I get these stitches out, I swear.”

“That some kind of euphemism?”

“Is now,” V quipped and Kerry chuckled as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of the mercenary’s head, arm tightening around his input’s broad shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tarot reading was something I reverse engineered for Kerry using actual card interpretations, though the 'patron card' thing is something I made up. If that _is_ a thing, it's purely by coincidence, lol.  
> Make sure to drop a comment and let me know what your favorite part was! love hearing that from you guys!  
> Also, check out [**my tumblr**](https://cryptid-jack.tumblr.com/) for sneak peeks of upcoming chapters and also fanart!


	6. Diamond in the Rough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter! Make sure you give me a subscribe so you don't miss future installments of this series! Next one will be a very smutty one shot that was originally going to be part of this story, but I decided to separate so I wouldn't have to change the rating for the whole fic.  
> Leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was, too! I love hearing that from you guys!

V wasn’t in bed when Kerry returned to the clinic the next morning, fresh coffee and half a breakfast buffet in tow. It crossed the musician’s mind that he might have gone a tad overboard as he dropped the bags on the coffee table next to V’s vacant gurney, but he just shrugged it off and scooped up Nibbles in one arm before she could get into a box of scrambled eggs. The coffee he brought over to the work bench Viktor was seated at, carefully adjusting the settings on his ripper kit as he watched some sort of boxing match on the screen nearby.

Kerry never had much liked those terrifying surgical ‘gloves’ ripperdocs wore, but he wasn’t about to ask the man to put it away for his sake in his own clinic; especially when his input might need it at any given moment. “You know you’re down a patient, right?” the musician asked instead, not actually worried since he doubted even V could manage to worm out from under Vik’s watchful eye at this point.

Vik grunted an affirmative then paused in his tinkering to grab a couple of clean mugs and pass them to Kerry, who took the hint and filled them both from the box of organic coffee he’d brought along again. The ripperoc accepted one mug back and took a long sip, sighing appreciatively before answering. “He’s in the shower.”

Kerry nodded and took a drink himself, wincing a little as Nibbles decided she’d rather be draped half across one of his shoulders than cradled in his arm, her nails pricking him through the fabric of his hoodie. Once she’d settled, the musician’s attention was caught by the match Vik was watching. The footage wasn’t professional quality, but decent enough when the person shooting could manage to keep the camera still, and it didn’t take someone well versed in boxing to know this was some sort of underground fight rather than a pro match.

For one thing, the two fighters were in  _ completely  _ different weight classes. One man was pushing six foot six and built like a literal tank, the other just under six foot and looking like a bad joke as he faced down his larger opponent. He was heavily muscled, but in a more practical way, and Kerry had to wonder what the hell the guy had been thinking to actually step into the ring with the behomoth of a man in front of him.

Right up until he turned just enough for the cameraman to catch the fighter’s profile and Kerry realized with a jolt that he recognized him.

“Holy fuck, is that V?!” the musician demanded as he stepped closer to Vik to get a better look at the screen.

The ripperdoc snorted softly and when Kerry cast a brief glance down at him, he found the man smiling. “Yeah, you didn’t know he fought a match against Razor Hugh?”

A little dazed, Kerry shook his head as he watched both fighters go to their corners, and saw Vik himself appear at V’s side on the feed to say something the camera couldn’t pick up over the noise of the crowd. “Didn’t realize he boxed at all,” he admitted. Then, brow furrowed, he asked, “When was this?”

“Couple a’ weeks ago,” Vik said and offered the musician a helpless shrug when Kerry shot him a startled, then infuriated, look.

“ _ After- _ ”

“Yeah,” the ripperdoc cut him off with an expression that seemed torn between irritated and proud. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed or not yet, but your input isn’t really the sort to kick back and relax in his downtime.”

“Oh I  _ fuckin’ noticed _ ,” Kerry grumbled and reached up to stroke Nibbles as she squirmed a little, more to sooth himself than the cat, if he were being honest. “Didn’t think that included underground boxing matches against brick shithouses when he had a malfunctioning chip in his head, but what do I know?” he complained.

Viktor was quiet a moment. “If it makes you feel better, he keeps surprising us too,” he commiserated.

It did, a little, and Kerry let one corner of his mouth quirk up in appreciation for the other man’s effort, then asked, “So who’s this Razor asshole? He pro?” He certainly  _ looked  _ pro. Kerry was no expert in cyberware, but even he could tell the guy was kitted to the gills with chrome. The bit around his head in particular looked like it was custom built to help him take a hit.

“Night City’s three time heavy weight champion,” Vik drawled and they both watched as the ripperdoc dropped off the ring and V got to his feet on the screen.

“Jesus  _ fuck _ ,” Kerry muttered, eyes riveted on the show, mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The other fighter loomed over his input and moved with shocking speed for a man his size (or anyone’s, really) to land the first blow, which sent V stumbling and made Kerry flinch hard enough to nearly spill his coffee.

The musician let out a soft hiss of sympathy as V spun with the force of the strike, but the man rallied quickly as Vik said, “Keep watching,” with a smile that bordered on the smug.

That first blow wasn’t the last one Hugh landed on V, but it  _ was  _ the hardest as the merc seemed to quickly find his stride in the fight and used his smaller size against his opponent. V was fast on his feet, darting in and out of Hugh’s reach to land a few quick, fierce blows to the larger man’s abdomen before quickly dancing back out of range, practically running circles around the pro. The technique seemed to be doing the trick, and Kerry wondered at the impact the repeated gut shots seemed to be having on Hugh enough to comment on it to Vik, whose smug smile widened a fraction.

“Word on the street was that he’d just gotten his abdominals swapped,” the ripperdoc said and took a drink of coffee as they both watched V land a particularly punishing blow to Hugh’s stomach, making the man double over and stumble backwards, but rather than try for an uppercut to the man’s heavily armored chin, the mercenary backed off and allowed himself some breathing room, seeming to know better than to waste the effort. “They hadn’t settled yet by the time the match started, so-”

“ _ That’s _ what you were telling him before the match” Kerry realized. Vik didn’t respond, but the musician knew it to be the case when the doc contented himself with simply smiling into his coffee.

The match was one of attrition, V conserving his comparatively limited strength in favor of the long game, tiring out his bigger opponent by forcing him to constantly lunge and chase after him around the ring until, finally, he landed a blow that sent Hugh stumbling backwards. This time, rather than back off, the merc stepped in and followed up with a vicious uppercut that snapped Hugh’s chin up and sent him tumbling over backwards onto the mat. Caught up in the excitement of it, Kerry let out shout of shocked delight that made Nibbles mewl in complaint and leap free of his grasp. He let her go, too distracted to chase after her as he watched the ref jump in and start the count while V, drenched in sweat and chest heaving took a few steps back, shaking out his hands.

“Didn’t know you’d got a recording of that, Vik,” V said from directly behind Kerry, making the musician yelp and start sideways. He might have wound up tumbling right into Viktor’s lap if his input hadn’t caught him around the middle with one arm and pulled him back against the broad expanse of his chest. “Watch it,” V warned with a soft huff of laughter, breath tickling the hairs at the nape of Kerry’s neck.

Heart rattling frantically behind his ribs, the musician twisted a little in V’s grasp and scowled. “Fuck, kid- don’t make me put a damn bell on you!” he groused, heat crawling up his face when his input only smiled slyly, then pressed a kiss to the side of Kerry’s neck, just shy of his cyberware. Glancing down, the older man noted that V was barefoot and clad only in the pajama bottoms Misty had brought over for him, hair still wet and the bare skin of his chest practically radiating heat into Kerry’s back through the fabric of his hoodie. For all he’d complained about the scare, the musician definitely didn’t mind where he’d wound up, or the arm his input had looped around his waist. “Worse than that little gremlin you call a cat,” he complained without venom.

“How are the stitches, V?” Vik asked, distracting both men.

“Fine,” the mercenary replied, then let go of Kerry and sidestepped to give the ripperdoc a look at his work. He did a full turn, lifting his arms a little to give the other man a better view of the worst patches. The musician’s stomach churned at the sight, unable to appreciate his input’s trim, muscular figure the way he normally would have as his eyes lingered on the rows of stitches that arced across the man’s back, chest, and abdomen. Once they had finished their transition into fresh scars Kerry was certain he wouldn’t be so bothered, but until then, all he could think of was how hot V’s blood had felt on his hands and the sharp copper smell of it that day he’d found his input dying on the sidewalk. Memories of the panic and fear that he was would lose the younger man threatened to swallow Kerry as his companion’s voices faded into white noise and the world around him slid out of focus, leaving his stomach tight and heart beat strangely loud in his ears.

A warm hand brushed over his own, gently took the mug of coffee he’d been holding in a white-knuckled grip and dragged the musician back to the world like a fish on a line. “Kerry,” V’s familiar, gravelly voice called, lips forming the syllables of his name with an almost unbearable gentleness. “Babe, you alright?”

Lungs screaming for oxygen, Kerry sucked in a ragged breath, then took another and blinked as he realized with a start that his input was standing directly in front of him, brow furrowed in concern as his eyes searched the musician’s face. “I- yeah, no… I’m fine. Totally nova, sweetheart,” the musician answered, voice weak and totally unconvincing if the look V was giving him was anything to go by.

The mercenary reached up to gently rest one warm, comforting hand against the nape of Kerry’s neck and the musician let its weight pull him in closer to V so he could press a brief kiss to his input’s furrowed brow.

“Should get dressed,” Kerry told V as he pulled away again. “Gonna catch your death, as my ol’ ma would say,” he remarked with an approximation of his usual lopsided grin. “Get some food in you too, while you’re at it. C’mon, I brought breakfast.”

V and Vik shared a look, but Kerry turned and walked back towards the divider rather than try to interpret it. Regardless, when he heard both men begin to move behind him, the musician called back, “Better fetch Misty too, doc. Girl looked ready to waste away when I came through earlier.”

* * *

Later, after they had all eaten and V had dozed off again, body clearly intent on finally recouping all that rest the mercenary had been denying it the last few weeks, Kerry wandered back into the clinic proper to find Vik watching V’s match against Hugh again. It was a habit of the ripperdoc’s, according to V; the man had years in the ring under his belt, and his love of the sport made him inclined to revisiting old matches to see where they might have gone differently.

Kerry wondered what Vik thought of V’s fight, but rather than find out, the musician leaned against the nearest bit of wall, eyes on the screen in front of the man, and asked, “Just where the hell did this kid come from?”

The ripperdoc glanced up at him sidelong and intuited that Kerry didn’t mean the question quite literally. They both knew V had been a nomad with the Bakker clan before leaving the life behind and settling in Night City, after all. “Same place all diamonds in the rough come from, I guess,” Vik answered eventually. “Most end up in Night City eventually, hoping to get cut and polished into something great.”

“That kind of treatment comes at a high price, in my experience” Kerry replied darkly, watching as V took a punch and spun away from Hugh, only to rally and duck under the other man’s guard to land a blow of his own. Vik grunted his agreement and the musician tore his gaze from the fight to look at the other man and ask, “You think he’s done payin’ yet?”

“He’s paid plenty,” the doctor replied, slow and thoughtful as he mulled it over. “Question is whether or not life’s gonna charge him interest at this point, I think.” Lips pressed into a thin, grim line, Kerry nodded, but was caught off guard when Vik asked, “You ready for that?”

“For what?” the musician scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and canted his head as he watched the other man. “To find him bleeding out on the side walk?”

“Won’t be the last time, I’ll bet my last eddy on  _ that _ .”

Kerry sighed and let his head drop back against the wall. “Yeah, I would too,” he murmured.

There was a moment of quiet, and then, “You could still get out now; leave before things get-”

“Too late,” Kerry cut Vik off with a rueful smile and met his gaze once more. He sighed then glanced towards the divider, voice low as he admitted, “Sounds cringe as hell, but it’s been too damn late since the night he followed me out on that roof...”

_ Since the night V had followed him out on that roof... _ and, rather than pulling away when Kerry dumped all his fears and anxieties into the space between them, had reached out across that terrible gulf and pulled him in close. It hadn’t been the kiss that had made Kerry wish the moment could last forever (though it certainly hadn’t hurt), but the connection, the understanding… the sense of being truly  _ seen  _ for the first time in god only knew how long. Putting voice to those thoughts that had been plaguing him for so long had made him feel very small and fragile, but V hadn’t laughed, hadn’t tried to minimize them…

The musician gave himself a mental shake and shrugged a shoulder as he flashed Viktor a sharp, undaunted smile. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere, choom, so you can stop trying to scare me off; it’s gettin’ old.” The ripperdoc settled back in his chair with a soft, resigned huff, and Kerry barked a laugh then clapped his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t need all the help you can get keepin’ his gonk ass in one piece, doc. Hell or high water, you can count on me for that.”

Viktor fixed Kerry with a canny eye, then, at long last, allowed himself a smile as he held out his hand and said, “You break his heart, I break your arms, Eurodyne.”

Kerry threw his head back and laughed again, then took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. “Deal.”

* * *

V insisted Kerry sleep in the next day and drop by his apartment in the afternoon rather than drive all the way down to the clinic again. Misty and Junior, the merc said, could help him get settled fine; wouldn’t even be the first time. The musician agreed reluctantly, but only because his inverted sleep schedule was beginning to catch up to him, especially now that he was certain his input wasn’t going to keel over on him the moment he took his eyes off him. No doubt V could tell as much as he only laughed at Kerry’s hesitation and sent him off with a kiss, instructions to bring lunch with him when he came, and a firm push- in that order.

Sleep was a restless affair for the musician that night, but he did feel better when he eventually woke around eleven and rolled out of bed to get showered and dressed before heading out. He called a car this time, preferring to leave Junior to figure out his future now that V was safely out of the woods, and stopped for food along the way.

Kerry took the elevator up to V’s floor, boxes of fresh yakisoba bagged up and tucked under his arm, relieved that he’d remembered the right number as he disembarked and made his way to his input’s door. Before he could knock, however, the door opened of its own accord and Kerry found himself face-to-face with an unfamiliar older woman with gray hair and uncomfortably sharp eyes.

Well, ‘older’. Truth be told, she was probably a good twenty years younger than Kerry himself, just without the benefit of the most advanced health care money could buy.

“Who are you?” the stranger asked, eyes narrowed as she gave him a fierce once over that made the musician feel like he’d just been hit with a blast of unfiltered x-rays.

“Uh-” he floundered, but was thankfully rescued by Misty, who appeared behind the older woman, a sympathetic look on her face as she caught his gaze.

“That’s Kerry, Mama Welles, V’s input.”

Finally rallying, Kerry said, “Yeah. He uh- here?”

‘Mama Welles’ didn’t answer, just arched one brow and asked, “So  _ you’re  _ the one, hm?”

“The one what?” Kerry asked warily, immediately on guard when Misty grimaced over the other woman’s shoulder at him.

“The input V hasn’t told me about and apparently didn’t try and stop him from going and getting himself half-killed.  _ Again _ .”

Irked, the musician narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, no longer daunted by the woman or her appearance in V’s doorway. “Lady, you think I wouldn’t have stopped him if I knew?” he demanded, voice just short of a growl. However annoyed he was, old habits passed down from his own mama wouldn’t let him get outright aggressive with an older woman, though that didn’t stop him from continuing. “I’d have tied his gonk ass up and thrown him in the fuckin’ trunk of my car if I’d know the shit he was gonna pull.”

Mama Welles hummed, eyes still narrowed, then suddenly relaxed, as if the musician had passed some sort of test. “Good. But do a better job keeping an eye on him in the future. He likes to get himself in trouble, our V.”

“I’m  _ right  _ here, you know,” V complained from his bed, though everyone ignored him.

“Yeah, I’ve picked up on that,” Kerry mused, annoyance easing out of his shoulders, allowing him to flash the woman one of his most charming smiles, convinced she wasn’t someone he’d want pitted against him if he was going to have a moment’s peace with his input.

Behind her, V scoffed. “I do  _ not  _ want to hear that from  _ you  _ outta any-fuckin’-body, Ker.”

Mama Welles raised one eyebrow and turned to look at his input and asked, “Oh?”

Realizing he might have just shot himself in the foot, V’s eyes widened fractionally as Kerry mouthed at him to shut up while Misty did her best to cover her smile with one hand. “I, uh-” the mercenary floundered for a moment, then seemed to resign himself to being the target of disapproval for the sake of his long term happiness as he continued, “Nah, I’m just raggin’ on him, Mama. Kerry ain’t like that.”

The older woman hummed skeptically, so Kerry quickly added, “I can’t promise to keep him in line, but I’ll do my best to at least keep him in one piece.”

“You’d better,” Mama said, then added, “And let him  _ rest _ , he’s still too broken up for any fooling around, chico.”

“Why the hell does everyone assume I’m gonna break the unstoppable fucking samurai slayer?” Kerry demanded, throwing his free hand up as Mama Welles chuckled, then patted his shoulder.

“It was good to meet you, Kerry,” she said, face finally breaking into a smile, taking years off of her in a moment and making the musician blink. The woman turned and glanced back at V where he still lay in bed, though only barely as he craned to get a look at going’s on in his front door. “Bring him to dinner next time, V; he looks like he could use a good meal even more than you do.”

“Yes ma’am,” the merc said in a tone that bordered on meek and Mama Welles swept out, Misty close on her heels.

The younger woman did pause long enough to give Kerry a brief hug, however, and said, “Congrats, you passed,” with a small laugh before leaving herself.

“Uh- thanks, I guess,” the musician said and finally stepped inside the now vacated doorway where he was met with the heady scent of food that definitely wasn’t the yakisoba he’d brought with him. “Shit, she bring food too?” Kerry asked, spotting several containers on the table by the couch.

“Yeah,” V answered as he hauled himself into a more upright position among the pillows on his bed. “Sorry, they just stopped by a few minutes ago, didn’t have time to call and warn you.”

“S’alright,” Kerry said with a wave of his hand as he moved over to inspect the food Mama Welles had brought, dropping the bag of yakisoba on the table next to it in the process. “Smells better ‘n what I brought,” he admitted with a frown.

V offered him a crooked grin and said, “Probably one of her roasts. Want some? We can save what you brought for later.”

Intrigued by the scent of what seemed to be a proper, home cooked meal, Kerry caved and replied, “Yeah, alright.”

The food  _ was  _ good, damn the woman, and there was a ton of it to boot; more than enough to feed both men with leftovers besides. They ate on the sofa while the tv played in the background and Nibbles repeatedly tried to squirm her way into Kerry’s lap until the man finally gave up pushing her away and simply held his plate higher to accommodate the cat.

“Shit that was good,” the musician groaned as he put his plate aside and settled back into the cushions then looped an arm around V’s shoulders as the mercenary did the same.

“Mama Welles cooks the best roast in Heywood,” V remarked with a chuckle as he settled contentedly against Kerry’s side.

“Screw that, best roast in Night City,” the musician corrected. “You better fuckin’ invite me when you go over for dinner.”

V tilted his head a little to get a better look at him, and asked, “You’d really want to come along?”

“’course,” Kerry answered, wondering at the question a little as he quirked one brow and returned the look. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His input hummed noncommittally and dipped his head, though not before Kerry caught the pleased curve of his lips. “Seems a little… domestic. Y’know, for a rock star.”

Said rock star snorted lightly and his heart fluttered treacherously behind his ribs as he tried to suppress a smile. “Pretty domestic for an infamous merc,” he countered and was rewarded with a soft chuckle from V. Kerry pulled his input in a little closer and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of the other man’s hair as his thumb rubbed absent circles against his shoulder. “’sides,” he murmured quietly, “I like a little domestic.”

“You know, I never would’a said it a month ago, but I do too,” V admitted as he dropped his head to rest on Kerry’s shoulder.

“Well, you’ve got the rep to back it up now,” the musician said with a grin. “Could spend your day at the spa in footie pajamas gettin’ your nails done and people  _ still  _ wouldn’t fuck with you after the shit you pulled the other day.”

V laughed at the mental image Kerry painted, though they both immediately regretted the joke when the merc flinched and grimaced.

“You alright?” Kerry asked immediately as he straightened a little to get a better look at his input while the other man clutched his side and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“Fine. Just these fuckin’ stitches,” he complained and took a careful breath before letting his hand drop back into his lap.

Kerry ran a hand tenderly over V’s hair, frowning a little. “Better not pull any or Vik will have both our asses. Lets get you back to bed, huh?” V groaned a little at the suggestion and the musician chuckled. “I’ll come with ya, if you want. Show you my black belt in cuddling,” he teased and kissed his cheek. “I’ll move your tv, we can watch from bed.”

V turned and caught Kerry’s lips with his own and the musician could feel him smile. “Alright,” the mercenary relented. “You better take off all your bling first, though. Might put my eye out,” he added and tugged one of the chains around Kerry’s neck before getting to his feet.

The musician snorted again and gave his input’s backside a swat as he slipped past on his way to the bathroom, then got up and rearranged things so the tv sat on the coffee table in easy view of the bed and cleared away their trash. That done, Kerry removed his necklaces and most of his rings, but turned when he heard V call his name from the bathroom.

“What’s up?” he asked and stuck his head through the door to find V picking at one of the bandages on his side, shirt hiked up so he could get a look at it, though he was clearly struggling. There was blood staining the gauze and Kerry immediately frowned at the sight of it as he stepped in closer, hands hovering over his input’s in a desire to help, but uncertain what he needed. “You alright?”

“’s normal; don’t think I popped a stitch,” V reassured him with a wry smile in the mirror, then jerked his chin towards the first aid kit on the counter by the sink. “Needs replacing, though. Can you put a new one on for me?”

Gritting his teeth to stave off the return of the flashbacks he’d had the day before, Kerry nodded and reached for a bandage, then removed it from it’s packaging while V removed the old one and tossed it into the nearby trash can. Realizing the area would need to be cleaned first and he was at the better angle to do it, Kerry passed the fresh bandage to V to hold, then opened one of the medical wipes packets in the first aid kit and did that as well, hoping his input didn’t notice the fine tremor in his hands as he worked. Finished, he took the bandage back from the other man and pressed it carefully over the neatly stitched, but still raw looking wound, then allowed himself a breath of relief once it was finally in place.

V allowed his shirt to drop, and for a moment Kerry thought he might have gotten away with things until he caught the mercenary’s gaze in the mirror. “Do scars bother you?” V asked quietly, expression hard to read, though it seemed to the musician’s refined ear that there was a tinge of sadness to his voice.

“Me? Nah,” Kerry said, but he could tell V didn’t buy it as the man turned to look at him directly.

“You got upset yesterday too,” he observed. “I’ve got a lot of them, you know,” V continued, frowning now.

“Sure I know. Seen you fuckin’ naked, haven’t I?” Kerry mused, then relented. “I ain’t got a problem with scars, kid. Honestly? Think they’re pretty hot,” he said, then reached out and grabbed his input’s hand, lifting it to expose one such mark along his forearm so he could press a reassuring kiss to it. The coy grin that accompanied the statement managed to take some of the concern from V’s eyes, but realizing the man likely still needed more, Kerry continued, “Just these-” here he let his fingertips ghost over the area he’d just bandaged, “These ain’t scars yet, and all I can think about when I see ‘em is how you almost died in my arms.”

“Ker-” V murmured, brow furrowed, but Kerry continued before he could say more.

“I’ll feel better when they’re proper scars,” the musician promised quietly as he stepped closer and let his head drop so his brow rested against V’s shoulder. “Til then… you just focus on healing, yeah?”

V slid his arms around Kerry and ran one hand up his back, touch warm and reassuring. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “I will.” They remained there for long minute before Kerry finally straightened and pressed a kiss to his input’s cheek. “Ready to show me those blackbelt cuddling skills you keep bragging about?” V asked him, voice light and teasing.

The musician laughed then pushed the other man gently out of the bathroom and towards his bed. “Lookin’ to challenge the master to a showdown or something, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” V replied with a cheeky grin as he settled himself under the blankets and patted the open space beside him invitingly. “Got some pretty slick moves myself, ya know.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Kerry said as he took the challenge and dropped onto the mattress beside his input then reached for him under the blankets, drawing him close. “Lets see what you got.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this, guys! Make sure you give me a subscribe so you don't miss future installments of this series! Next one will be a very smutty one shot that was originally going to be part of this story, but I decided to separate so I wouldn't have to change the rating for the whole fic.  
> Leave a comment letting me know what your favorite part was, too! I love hearing that from you guys!  
> You can also follow [**my tumblr**](https://cryptid-jack.tumblr.com/) for future sneak peeks and also fanart!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what your favorite part was in the comments, I love hearing that from you guys!


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